Crossing the Wires
by ravengal
Summary: Italy giving Germany roses was the catalyst. As time goes on, however, misunderstandings start to build on misunderstandings... until, eventually, there's a whole Jenga tower of them. How long before it collapses? [GerIta! Buon San Valentino! History!]
1. Flavour of the Week

Author's note: Howdy hey!

I've finally gotten down to writing a proper Buon San Valentino fic! I've been wanting to do one for ages.

I already like this fic much more than my first attempt, Mending Broken Bridges. I've given this one a surprising amount of thought.

It's mostly based on the anime version, though I cherry-picked a few things I liked from the manga version.

I hope you enjoy it!

P.S. Happy 10th anniversary of Hetalia!

* * *

 **Chapter One** **: Flavour of the Week**

 **1943**

Italy walked away from the training area, frazzled and confused. Just what had been wrong with Germany? All he'd done was given the guy flowers and he'd completely flown off the handle. Did he really find flowers that offensive? He'd have to remember not to give him any more in future.

Also, why did he have to ask about him being in love before? What did that have to do with anything? And why, oh why, did he have to make him think about _him_ again? He'd tried very hard over the last century to stop thinking about him...

Germany probably thought he was a freak now. That much was clear from the look of outright horror on his face. He'd never wanted his best friend to know that his first love had been a boy. Never. Especially not now, in World War Two, when Germany's boss had a massive issue with same-sex relationships.

He'd wondered sometimes if Germany himself would mind, but, now, it was pretty clear that he did.

Sighing to himself, he made his way back over to the man who'd sold him the roses. The second bouquet, that he'd promised to come back for, should be ready by now.

* * *

Italy rapped a hand on Japan's paper door, then waited a few moments. Eventually, the door slid open.

"Oh, Itary," Japan said. "It's you. Gomenasai, but I'm very busy wis paperwork right now."

Italy smiled. "Si, si, I know!" he replied. "I just-a came to bring you these!" He held out the roses, praying that he didn't get the same reaction. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

Japan's eyes widened slightly in surprise as he took the bouquet. "Oh, arigatou." He paused a moment. "It's not just me you're giving sese to, right?"

Again with that weird question. Was it really so strange to give people flowers? He'd picked up the habit from France, since, in the man's own words, "Ze world always needs more amour", but he was wondering now if it was such a good idea.

"Uh, no? I gave some to Germany earlier, but I don't think he liked them."

"Ah."

"Well, I'll let-a you get back to your boring paperwork! Ciao!"

"Hai. Sayonara."

As Italy turned around and walked off, he could have sworn he heard Japan mutter, "Werru, at reast sey're not chocorates..."

Huh, weird. Did Japan not like chocolates, or something? He made a mental note never to get him any.

* * *

It was the following day and Italy was running laps. He hated running laps. As Japan passed him for the third time, he felt his leg muscles burning.

Why Germany insisted on this every day, he had no idea.

He continued to struggle, gradually growing slower with each step. His breathing was coming out in ragged pants and he just wanted to stop!

Slowing to a crawl, he really couldn't take anymore. He bent over, placing his hands on his legs as his chest heaved.

Suddenly, Germany - who'd passed him for about the fifth time now - stopped beside him. Italy looked pleadingly up at him, sweat dotting his face.

"G... Germany..." he said, "I can't... run anymore..."

Germany eyed him with that stern glare of his. He knew this wouldn't work. It had never worked before, so why would it work now? Still, it couldn't hurt to try.

After a few moments of silence, Germany let out a long breath. "Alright, fine. I zink you've done enough laps today."

Italy stared at him. Then stared some more. "Uhhhh... what?"

"You've done vell, so you can rest." He paused awkwardly for a moment. "Good vork." He turned around and continued running.

Italy couldn't help but stare after him, befuddled.

* * *

"Alright, I zink you've run enough laps," Germany said. "Good vork, Italy."

Italy stared. It had happened again! Once was creepy enough, but twice in two days?! Just what was up with Germany lately? Why was he suddenly being so nice?

Not to say that the German _couldn't_ be nice. It was just that, oftentimes, he'd choose _not_ to be nice, in favour of being a strict military general.

Maybe he was just in a good mood recently, for whatever reason. Whatever it was, Italy certainly wasn't going to complain about it.

As he watched his teammates disappear into the distance, he sighed, walking over to the grass and flopping down to rest.

Some time passed while he was doing this. So much time that he eventually recovered from the fatigue and grew very, very bored.

Glancing around, he checked for any sign of Germany and Japan. Finding none, he grinned and reached into his pocket, pulling out a marker pen.

Not a permanent one, of course. He didn't have a death wish.

* * *

Italy was mid-way through a drawing of Austria with a pompous moustache when he heard footsteps approach. They halted behind him and he jumped in fright.

Turning around slowly, he came face-to-face with Germany, who was glowering down at him.

"Oh, hi, Germany!" he said nervously. Noticing the marker in his hand, he hid it behind his back. "How are you doing? All done with your training? It's a lovely day today, isn't it?"

Silently, Germany looked up at the tank - which was covered in sketches - then back down at Italy.

"I'm sorry! I know you don't-a like me doing that, but I was really bored and I felt-a like drawing something and please don't-a put me in a headlock again!"

Germany continued to stare at him. After a moment, he gave a light huff. "Don't vorry about it." He looked back at the tank. "... Hmm. Nice drawing of Austria."

Italy's mouth fell open. "... Huh?"

"Ja. Very accurate." He paused again. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to vash zis off."

Italy continued to stare at him. Since when did Germany just let him off like that?!

* * *

The following day, there was more of the same. Less laps and a generally _nice_ air about Germany. Maybe he'd had a recent workload lifted? Maybe he'd bought a new brand of beer that he liked? Italy had no idea.

As he continued to stare up at the passing clouds above him, a figure suddenly blocked his vision.

He smiled. "Ciao, Germany!" he said. "Done with training?"

"Ja," Germany replied. He suddenly glanced away, looking uncomfortable.

"Is something wrong?"

"N-Nein. Everyzing's fine." There was a long pause. Then Germany let out a breath, still not looking at him. "I... never noticed vhat a nice colour your hair is."

Italy stared. "... Huh?"

Germany's face turned red. "Vhat colour _is_ zat, anyvay? Red? Brown? Reddish-brown? It's... quite lovely."

Italy's brain broke. "... Hah?" He paused as he tried to think of a response. "Um... grazie?"

Germany glanced back at him, looking slightly more relaxed. "Your uniform matches it quite vell. It... suits you."

"Gra... zie?"

Okay, he just had to have entered a parallel universe, or something. Either that, or he needed to stop running laps. They clearly weren't good for him.

* * *

The following day, Italy showed up for training, only to see that Japan wasn't around. This wasn't unusual for the man - as he lived seven hours ahead of his allies and always got a lot of paperwork from his boss - so Italy wasn't the least bit worried.

Smiling, he walked up to Germany, who had his arms behind his back. Hopefully, his friend had stopped being weird and was back to being his grumpy self.

"Ciao!" he said, stopping in front of him.

"Guten tag," Germany replied.

"So, what hell am I in for today?"

Germany looked away. Italy tilted his head at this weird response.

Before he could ask any questions, Germany shoved a bouquet of blue cornflowers into his hands. He stared at them disbelievingly.

"Z... Zese are ze national flowers of Germany." There was a pause. "I hope you like zem."

"Uh... si... they're... lovely..."

Just what the heck was going on anymore?

* * *

Another day dawned, with Italy heading to the training ground. When he saw Germany standing with his hands behind his back again, he got suspicious.

"Ciao!" he said nervously as he stopped in front of him.

"Guten tag," Germany replied.

"Japan still busy?"

"Ja."

"Aww. Poor guy never catches a break."

"Ja." Germany paused. "Anyvay, ve are due to train soon, so..." He shoved a bouquet of white lilies into Italy's hands. "Zese are for you."

Italy felt nervousness creep up his neck. "Uh... grazie..."

"Zey're ze national flower of Italy, so I... zought zey'd be appropriate."

"Si..."

Appropriate for what? He wanted to ask this, but his voice froze in his throat. Why was Germany doing this? Was he trying to make up for something? But he hadn't done anything, as far as Italy knew. So, did he want something from him?

Yeah, that must be it. He was buttering him up for something. What, he had no idea, but Germany wasn't the type to be this nice without there being a reason for it.

He was about to ask what it was he wanted, but, at that moment, Germany blushed and turned away from him.

"Alright, vell..." He cleared his throat. "Ve'd better start ze training."

"Uh, si..."

* * *

The following day, Italy stretched awake. It was mid-afternoon, but, being that it was Saturday, the only day when he wasn't required to do training - unless Germany decided otherwise - he'd been free to sleep in late. Man, he loved Saturdays!

Smiling, he turned over in bed, only to pause as he saw the two vases on his shelf. The red one containing cornflowers and the blue one containing lilies.

He had to wonder what it was that Germany wanted from him. He assumed the man would tell him at some point, but still. Should he ask?

Well, he couldn't deny that it was nice being spoiled, as weird as it was. If these presents had been coming from anyone else, they wouldn't be quite so weird, but this was Germany. Strict, stern, serious Germany. His best friend in the world, but a massive stick-in-the-mud.

Maybe he'd just leave it alone. After all, Germany had been showering him with niceties, gifts and compliments for five days straight now. He imagined that he'd get to the point fairly soon. Though why he had to drag it out this long was beyond Italy.

He yawned, climbing out of bed, when the doorbell suddenly rang.

He blinked. It wasn't often he got visitors. He was just glad that Romano was a really heavy sleeper, or else he'd be swearing like a sailor right now.

Still in his pink vest and yellow boxers, he ran across the hall and down the stairs.

Upon reaching the door, he opened it. His eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Oh," he said. He smiled. "Ciao, Germany!"

Germany was standing there, looking awkward with his hands behind his back again.

"Guten tag," he replied.

"What are you doing here?"

"Ja, sorry. I made sure to vait until you vere probably avake."

"Oh? For what?"

Germany suddenly thrust a box of chocolates into his hands. He stared at it, heat rising to his cheeks. Okay, this was getting ridiculous.

He opened his mouth to ask about it, but Germany beat him to it.

"I vas also vondering if, later, perhaps, I could cook you somezing at mein house?"

Italy looked up at him, his eyes snapping open. "Eh?"

Germany was looking away, red-faced. "I've spent several hours learning how to cook pasta, so you could come and eat some viz me, if... you like?"

Italy's blush deepened and he felt yesterday's nervousness creep up his neck again. Okay, from anyone else, this would have sounded like a date.

"Uhhhh... sure?"

Germany gave a small sigh of relief. "Zat's gut." He turned and walked off. "Be at mein house at seven." He paused mid-step. "Or somevhere around zat, anyvay." He continued walking off.

Italy stared after him, unable to tear his eyes away.

After a moment, he shook his head to clear his thoughts. No. If it was Germany asking, then it most certainly was not a date. This was most likely the man's perfect chance to ask Italy... whatever it was he was going to ask of him.

He nodded to himself several times as he closed the door, his face still burning. Yes, that had to be it.

* * *

Later on that day, Italy found himself outside Germany's door. He wasn't dressed particularly fancy, but, since it wasn't a date or anything, he didn't feel the need to be.

He rapped on the door and waited. After a few moments, the door opened.

He smiled. "Ciao!" he said.

"Guten tag," Germany replied, dressed very prim and proper. That wasn't unusual for him, though.

He stepped aside and Italy passed him, the door being closed behind him. He continued walking down the hallway, with Germany in tow, until he reached the kitchen. He paused as he noticed the glasses of red wine on the table.

"I didn't know you liked-a wine!"

He heard a grunting noise. "It's Italian vine. I don't usually drink it, but... I zought you'd prefer it."

"Oh, well, grazie!"

* * *

Sometime later, a plate of pasta - covered in sauce and grated cheese - was placed in front of Italy.

He looked at it. Well, it certainly _looked_ appetising, but he was a bit of a gourmet when it came to pasta.

Germany cleared his throat. "I hope you like it..." he said, moving away to get his own plate.

Picking up the fork, Italy stuck it into the spaghetti and twirled it around. Time for the taste test. He shoved it into his mouth.

He was just starting to chew it as Germany sat down, looking oddly nervous.

"So, um... how is it?"

"Hmmmmmm..." Italy swallowed and smiled. "Not bad! It's not-a perfect - a little on the soggy side - but it's pretty good!"

Germany sighed in relief, beginning to eat his own pasta.

This was nice, Italy thought as he continued eating. It wasn't like he'd never eaten a meal with Germany before, but their meals weren't normally this... relaxed. It was a pleasant experience, simply enjoying each other's company. They didn't do that as often as he would have liked.

He smiled back up at Germany. "It's really weird that you made-a me pasta! Did you have nothing better to do today?"

"Vell... I vent for mein morning run, but I... vanted to do somezing special for you."

"Aww, how nice! Though I would've expected you to make wurst and mashed potatoes!"

Germany blushed. "Ja, vell... I vanted to make somezing _you_ vould like... You don't always like mein sausages..."

"That's true."

Italy studied Germany's face for a moment. The man certainly had been blushing a lot lately. Maybe it was due to the embarrassment of feeling he needed to go to such lengths for whatever it was. Italy couldn't imagine what kind of question or request would require this, though. He was an easy-going guy, so he'd be likely to say yes to it, regardless.

* * *

Finally, they finished their meal. As Germany started clearing away the plates, Italy took a sip of his red wine. Ahhh. Delicious.

"So, it vas gut?" Germany asked.

"Si! It was decent."

Germany nodded to himself, taking away the plates. Italy continued to sit there, sipping his wine.

After his friend was done washing the plates, he returned, placing two smaller plates on the table. They each had a fork and a slice of cake on them.

"Oh! Cake?"

"Ja. It's apple cake."

Italy grinned, putting down his wine. "Sweet!" He pulled the plate towards him, grabbed the fork and stabbed it into the cake. Raising it to his mouth, he took a bite. "Mmmm~! Delizioso!"

"I'm glad you like it."

It was amazing how much this felt like a date. Not that he'd ever managed to go on one - so he didn't really know - but he imagined it would feel something like this. Not to mention all the gifts, compliments and general niceties. All of it combined made it feel like he was being courted and it was lovely.

It was probably temporary, but hey. He would never have dreamed Germany would even be _capable_ of all this. He used to think the man would make a terrible boyfriend, but he'd clearly proven him wrong. He had it in him to make some girl very happy.

... Honestly, if Germany never got around to asking whatever it was he wanted to ask and, instead, kept pampering him like they were lovers or something, he certainly wouldn't complain.

* * *

The next day, Italy headed off to the training ground. After getting his briefing and being told to run some laps, he pouted to himself.

He really didn't want to do this. Well, he _never_ wanted to do this, but especially not today. He was so thoroughly relaxed from the previous day that all he wanted to do was leave and grab some pizza.

As he ran behind Germany and Japan, he continued to think about how unfair this was.

... Then it hit him. Neither of them were paying attention.

Smirking mischievously, he ran in the opposite direction.

* * *

Stomach full, Italy happily made his way back to the training ground. Germany would probably yell at him, grab him in a headlock and call him a dummkopf, but, sometimes, one had to make sacrifices.

Surprisingly, it appeared that Germany and Japan hadn't finished their laps yet. Huh. Maybe he'd eaten that pizza faster than he'd thought.

Huffing in boredom, he looked around, wondering what to do. Once he spotted the pristine tanks, however, his mischievous smirk returned.

* * *

He was on his way back, after a job well done, when he suddenly ran into Germany, who'd been walking the other way. He mentally prepared himself for the yelling.

"Ah, Italy," Germany said. "Zere you are."

"Si," he replied with his best smile. "Ciao!"

"I've been looking for you." Germany suddenly blushed. "I... vanted to ask you somezing."

He blinked at the lack of a raised voice. The lack of a threat. Not that he was complaining, though. Instead, he continued to smile.

"Oh?"

"Ja. Do... you maybe vant to go to dinner tonight?"


	2. Cat on Hot Bricks

Author's note: ... Welp.

Due to me making minor fixes long after the fact, my old author's note on this chapter has gone kaput.

I doubt there was anything important here, but still. It's annoying.

* * *

 **Chapter Two** **: Cat on Hot Bricks**

Italy smiled up at the restaurant. Germany had certainly picked a fancy one, that was for sure. So he'd made sure to dress in his best shirt and pants to match. Smiling brightly, he entered.

The first waiter he laid eyes on had dark brown hair that was swished back, a small dark brown moustache and a lot of stubble on his chin.

Italy waved to him. "Ciao!" he said.

"Oh," the waiter replied, "god dag."

Italy blinked. God... dag? That certainly wasn't German.

"Hah?" he asked, confused.

"Uh, sorry... I mean 'Guten tag'. I'm new, you see... and Swedish."

Italy smiled again. "Oh, alright then, no problem! Well, I'm here for my friend, Germany!" He looked around, searching for him. "Where is he?"

The waiter blinked. "Germany? Nej, he isn't here."

Italy stared, confused. "Huh?" After a moment, it hit him. "Wait, I got here before _he_ did?" He paused, trying to process this. Then he started panicking. "Oh no, it's the apocalypse! I don't-a want to die!" He started screaming.

The waiter looked very uncomfortable. "Well, I'm sure if you wait, he'll get here soon." His eyes darted around uncertainly. "Would you like a table?"

Italy paused in his screaming to smile. "Sure! Table for two, please! And some lovely red wine!" He went back to screaming.

"Right..."

* * *

In no time at all, Italy was seated at his table, two glasses of red wine within reach. He still had no idea how he'd gotten here before Germany, though.

Now that he was sure the world wasn't about to explode, he felt quite pleased with himself. How _had_ he managed to beat Germany here, anyway?

Oh, right. It was probably because he'd run into some British soldiers earlier, who'd completely failed at pretending to be German. All that screaming and running had gotten him here early.

He smiled, lightly tapping his fingers on the table as he waited.

Suddenly, he heard giggling from across the room. Curious, he turned, only to see three very pretty ladies sitting at a table together, chatting and eating ice cream. Grinning, he shoved back his chair and rushed over.

"Ciao, ladies~" he said, waving at them.

All three of them looked up at him in surprise. After a few moments, the one in the purple dress giggled.

"Vell, aren't you adorable?" she said, cupping her hands to her face.

His grin widened. "Well, I guess I _have_ been called that before~!"

The one with short brown hair giggled. "How cute!" She turned to the girl next to her, who had shoulder-length light brown hair. "Hey, Hanna... I dare you to feed him."

Hanna pouted slightly. "Oh, come on..." she replied.

"You know you vant to~"

Hanna looked back up at Italy. She paused a moment, then smiled. "Aww, vhat ze heck! He's too cute to refuse!"

This had to be Italy's lucky day. Usually, any girl he flirted with would turn him away immediately. Now, they were offering to feed him?!

His grin was so wide, it nearly cracked his face. First, he'd gotten here before Germany and now this?

Best... day... ever.

* * *

Germany had never felt more furious.

Italy had confessed to him a week ago and he'd agreed to give him a chance, not only to make the man happy, but also because Germany was quite taken with the idea of someone being in love with him. It was fresh and exciting and made him feel like he was living out one of his romance novels.

All week, he'd done everything in his power to be the best lover possible - even going against his better judgement, sometimes - and his repayment was this?! Italy flirting with girls?!

One had been smiling at him, one had been stroking his head and the other had been feeding him ice cream! He'd been dying to grab him in a headlock and squeeze him hard for that.

He'd had to control himself, though. He may have now broken his streak of not yelling at Italy for the week, but resorting to violence would have been a bit too much. Especially in a public setting. So he settled for scolding, instead.

To think, on the walk over here, he'd been going over their history together, realising that he didn't dislike it as much as he'd thought he did, and Italy was here, doing _this_! Unbelievable!

He'd even imagined the two of them in a stupid 'Italia and Germania' situation, for crying out loud!

God, he really shouldn't have stared at that painting for so long in the museum. It was giving him weird ideas...

He was suddenly brought out of his angry rant by an apology from Italy - who looked awfully sad - and it doused his fire in an instant. Well, he did look genuinely sorry for his actions, so maybe they could work their way past this.

After all, how could he stay mad at that pitiful face?

* * *

Italy stared in confusion and horror. What the heck was going on?!

First, there had been the heliotropes and that had been weird enough on its own. Never mind that Germany had already given him flowers twice that week. In Greek mythology, heliotropes symbolised a jilted nymph who'd pined and stared at the sun for so long that she'd become a flower.

He doubted Germany knew this, but the waiter's reaction of violently shuddering told him that _he_ did. He seemed to know very well that these flowers meant eternal devotion.

Desperately, Italy had tried to convince him that it wasn't what it looked like - that Germany wasn't confessing his undying love to him, or anything - but Germany had just made it ten times worse.

A ring.

A tomato ring.

A ring with a gold band and a tomato shape made of ruby and emerald on it.

... Why, god, why?!

It was lovely - and probably very expensive - but did Germany not see how this looked to everyone else in the restaurant?! For crying out loud, it looked like he was proposing!

Oh god, he couldn't even bring himself to look at the waiter right now. Just what was Germany thinking?!

* * *

Germany exhaled to calm himself. He was sweating and his heart was racing, but things seemed to be going well, so far. He'd followed every single one of the book's instructions, right down to the letter.

They'd been the only thing to keep him sane the past week. Keep him on track. They gave him structure. Order. They allowed his brain to think straight, while his stomach was busy doing somersaults.

Sure, the book had technically been written for a man courting a woman, but the steps couldn't be all that different. He had complete faith in it.

So far, he'd completed six of the seven steps, though he ran them back though his head, just to make sure.

Treat Italy nicely? He'd given him much fewer laps to run and not scolded him for drawing on the tanks, so check.

Give him compliments? He'd told him that his hair was a lovely colour and that blue suited him very well, so check.

Buy him presents? He'd bought him both of their national flowers and a box of chocolates, so check.

Cook him a meal? He'd made him spaghetti bolognaise and apple cake, so check.

Take him to a nice restaurant? Well, they were currently at one of the fanciest restaurants in town, so check.

Buy him his favourite flowers and a personalised ring? He'd given him heliotropes and a tomato ring he'd had specially crafted, so check.

There was only one step left.

 _Throw your arms around her and tell her your feelings._

" _Italyyyy_!" he yelled, lurching forward and knocking the table to one side.

Italy shrieked in surprise as the German's arms tightly wrapped around him, lifted him to his feet and held on tight.

Germany held that pose for a few moments, just like the book had told him to. For extra effect, it had said.

In those few moments, he began to evaluate his feelings. The book had told him that they'd come to him the moment he hugged Italy. That he'd just have to reach into his heart and he'd know what to say. So, he reached.

Italy... was his best friend. His _first_ friend. He'd been there for him, back when no one else had. Reaching out the hand of friendship that had been so foreign to him. He had an infectious smile that lit up any room and boundless optimism that could brighten the darkest of days. He was loyal to a fault and very affectionate. He made him feel like someone really, truly cared about him.

Italy made him... happy.

"I..." he said, unable to form the words. "I..."

A sudden warmth spread across his body. One akin to a warm fluffy blanket being draped over him. His heart began to do weirdly painful thumps and constrictions in his chest and he became _acutely_ aware of his arms around Italy.

He froze.

What had he been doing the past week?! It had started off as giving Italy a chance - agreeing to date him, to keep him happy after his rose confession - but just what had it turned into?! What the hell was this he was feeling?!

His breathing turned shallow. Oh god. Oh god, oh god. Had he actually...?

His boss was going to kill him. Hiding everything he'd done in the past week from the man had been bad enough, but now? Oh god...

It suddenly occurred to him how ridiculous he must look. One male country, hugging another male country, in the middle of a German restaurant, in the middle of World War Two.

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god!

His embarrassment continued to climb. As did his shame as a nation. He'd fallen prey to the one thing he wasn't supposed to. Why had he never stopped to think?!

... Only now did he realise that the restaurant had gone deathly quiet. Not a sound could be heard, except for the quiet shuddering of their waiter. Oh god, they were all staring at him, weren't they? Staring in shock. Disgust. Shame.

He'd shamed them. He'd shamed them all. His people, his country, everything he stood for. Here he was, the stoic, serious personification of their country, being affectionate. With another man.

What made it even worse, however, was the fact that Italy wasn't moving. He was completely still in his arms. Not hugging him back, or even saying anything.

His embarrassment skyrocketed as he realised that he'd made a complete fool of himself. His face grew nuclear hot and his heart raced at a dangerous speed.

Then, suddenly, everything went black.

* * *

Italy was freaking out. He had no idea what to do! He'd been calling Germany's name and waving a hand in front of his face, but he was getting no response! Just what was wrong with the man?! His eyes had gone blank and his forehead was burning!

Sure, he'd been acting awfully strange all week, but nothing - absolutely nothing - compared to what had just happened. It had been the icing on the world's freakiest cake.

He was starting to believe that this really _was_ an alternate dimension.

Before he could think any more on the matter, however, he noticed that Germany's body was starting to fall forward, towards him. He shrieked, panicking. Why wasn't Germany righting himself? Why was he falling over?

"Oh no..." he muttered.

He scrambled to try and hold him up, pushing against his bulky form with his hands. He strained the muscles in his arms, pushing, desperately trying to get him to stand up straight again.

... It was no use. He could already feel his arms aching. Germany was much heavier than him, due to his ridiculous muscle mass, so he knew immediately that he wouldn't be able to hold him for long.

As if on cue, his arms gave out and he collapsed to the floor with a yelp, Germany landing on top of him.

"Urghhhh..." He pulled himself out from under the German. Crawling over to his side, he tried shaking him by the shoulder. "Germany. Germany!" There was no response. He tried to flip him over, but, yet again, he strained. Looking desperately at the other people in the restaurant, he felt tears in his eyes. "Somebody, help me flip him over!" They continued to stare at him and that one waiter continued to shudder. He felt his desperation grow. "Please! He's not-a moving and I don't know what to do and I can't-a flip him over by myself!"

After a few moments, a blonde man stood up from his chair and slowly walked over. Kneeling down, he grabbed hold of Germany.

"Oh, grazie! Grazie!"

Together, they heaved. With their combined strength, they managed to flip Germany onto his back. His eyes were closed.

"Germany!" Italy lifted up the German's eyelids, but the eyes behind them were blank. He let them drop again, choosing instead to shake him by the shoulder. "Germany!"

Panic levels rising, he felt tears roll down his face. He'd never seen his friend in such a vulnerable state. Never known he could even _get_ in such a vulnerable state. He was the strong one. The immovable one. The one who could take a thousand hits and not fall. The state he was in now scared him so much, he could barely think straight.

The man beside him quickly checked Germany's pulse. "... It's still beating," he said.

Italy allowed himself a small breath of relief. "Oh, thank-a dio..." Still coated in tears, he reached forward and lightly slapped Germany on the cheek. "Germany. Germany! Please wake up, Germany!"

"Um..." a woman suddenly said. He looked up to see a waitress with brown hair in a ponytail. "Maybe somevon should call a taxi..."

"S... Si..." He glanced down at the lifeless form of Germany, then back up at the waitress. "Could you... please call one for me?"

The waitress looked surprised for a second, but she recovered. "Oh, of course." She walked away, likely heading off to find a phone.

Italy looked back down at Germany. At the way his chest very slowly moved up and down. At the way his eyes refused to open. The way his muscles refused to move.

Making a whining sound, he turned away. Upon doing so, his eyes landed on the heliotropes and tomato ring that were lying on the floor.

Oh, right. He'd dropped them in his shock earlier, back when Germany had knocked over the table and hugged him.

Crawling across the floor, he picked them both up, then sat back down next to Germany, waiting.

After a few moments, something occurred to him.

"Wait, I'll never be able to carry him to the taxi by myself!"

He looked desperately back at the blonde man from before, who was kneeling nearby.

The man heaved a sigh and nodded. "Alright..." he replied.

* * *

 _The purple flowers had bloomed again this year. They'd always been her favourite. In fact, there she was, as he'd suspected, admiring them. Smelling them. Smiling that adorable smile._

 _As his chest tightened, so did his grip on the bouquet he held._

 _Heart beating erratically, he slowly approached her. She looked up at him in surprise, then blushed at what he was holding._

 _He pulled one of the purple flowers from the bouquet. Trying to control his shaking hand, he gently placed it in her hair._

 _He backed away a few paces, afraid. She raised one hand to touch the flower, still looking surprised._

 _He hesitated. He had to do this, though. He just had to._

 _In a burst of courage, he strode forward and shoved the bouquet into her hands._

 _His heart felt like a jackhammer in his chest. He took one step back. Then two. Then three._

 _The remainder of his courage failing him, he turned and ran._

* * *

Germany's eyes snapped open. He blinked. Then blinked again, placing a hand to his head. What kind of weird dream was that?

He glanced around, suddenly confused. Wait, was this his living room? Why was he in here? Feeling around him with his hands, he realised he was lying on his couch. When had he fallen asleep on his couch?

"Ah," a voice from across the room said. He turned to see Austria, sitting on the couch opposite, with a book in his hands. Without removing his gaze, he closed the book. "You're finally avake."

"Ja..." he replied.

Still disoriented, Germany sat up and looked around him. Glancing down, he noticed he was still wearing his dark brown tuxedo. He patted it, confused.

"From vhat I heard, you collapsed at ze restaurant."

Germany glanced up to see Austria putting the book away. His gaze was still fixed on him.

Austria adjusted his glasses. "Italy came in here viz four ozers, who said zey carried you here in a taxi."

Germany's eyes widened. He'd collapsed? And then had to be carried back?!

His mind whirled backwards, trying to remember what would make him collapse. There had been the waiter, the flowers and ring, the hug and...

Oh. _Oh_.

Clenching his teeth, he looked at the floor in shame.

There was a long pause from Austria and Germany knew why. The longer it stretched on, the more shame he felt.

Austria had known he'd been going on a date. It had been rather obvious from the book he'd been reading and the tuxedo he'd chosen to wear.

The man hadn't questioned it. Probably because it wasn't unusual for nations to date humans occasionally. Hell, France did it all the time. What he _hadn't_ known was exactly _who_ he'd been off to date.

Austria was too polite to say anything, though. He knew this. The man could be snippy at times - and downright rude at others - but he knew when to keep quiet.

"... Vell, I suppose I'd better call Italy," Austria said.

Germany looked up to see him standing up. "Vhat?"

Austria sighed. "He told me very clearly to call him vhen you voke up. Zree times, in fact." He held his gaze. "Unless, of course, _you'd_ razer call him..."

His heart thudded in his chest. Feeling slightly dizzy from the mere thought, he shook his head. "N-Nein."

"Vell, alright, zen."

Austria walked over to the phone. Normally, Germany wouldn't allow him to contact Italy, but, just this once, he supposed he could let it slide.

After dialling the numbers and holding the receiver to his ear, Austria waited.

"Yes, Italy? It's Austria." There was a pause. "Yes, he just voke up now." He suddenly jolted back from the phone, one eye closed. "Volume!" There was another pause, while he opened his eye again. "... Ja, ja, he... Calm down, you ingrate! Yes, he's fine. A bit disoriented, but vhat vould you expect after collapsing?" There was another pause. "Nein, I don't zink he feels like talking right now." There was another pause. Austria heaved a sigh. "Stop crying, you idiot! He'll be fine!" He looked over at Germany. "You vill still be attending training tomorrow, I assume?"

As if he could bring himself to skip that.

"Ja."

Austria turned back towards the phone. "You'll be seeing him tomorrow, so... I said stop crying, you idiot!"

A tiny smile couldn't help but creep onto Germany's face.

"Yes, yes, goodbye." Austria put the phone down and huffed. Looking over at Germany, his expression became neutral again. "So, you are quite fine?"

"Ja."

"Vell, zat's gut." Austria straightened his jacket. He paused. "I can't say I understand your choice in spouse, but vhatever floats von's boat, I suppose."

Germany felt heat rise to his cheeks.

Austria gave him that knowing stare again. "Now, I'm not going to question your tastes... I have much better zings to vorry about zan who you vant in your bed at night... but just pray zat our boss doesn't find out."

Germany cringed, both at the bed comment _and_ the boss comment.

Austria moved back over to the opposite couch and sat down. "He vould be most displeased. I can already feel ze headache he vould cause us boz..."

"Ja..."

"... So... how did ze date go, anyvay? Before you collapsed on ze floor, zat is?"

Germany froze. "Uh..."

After a few moments of silence, Austria glanced away. "... Hungary found your book, you know." He huffed slightly. "I must say, Germany, you didn't hide it very vell."

Germany's blush deepened.

"... Please... for ze love of Johann Strauss... don't tell me you followed all ze instructions..."

Something jumped inside Germany's chest. "V... Vell..."

Austria heaved a sigh, placing a hand to his head. "You idiot." He paused. "I bet you'd drive zrough a vall, if a book told you to..." He paused. "And ze proposal?"

Germany's brain halted. "Vait, vhat?"

"Ze proposal. From in ze book. You didn't follow zat, too, did you?"

Suddenly, the section with the ring came to mind. Germany's eyes nearly shot out of their sockets. "Vhat?!"

Austria looked at him. "You know! Ze section viz ze ring."

Oh god.

"Hungary said zat vas ze funniest part of ze book, so..."

Oh god!

Austria continued to stare at him. "... You didn't know you vere proposing to him, did you?"

There was a long, agonising pause. Then Germany put his hands to his face and screamed.


	3. Fool's Paradise

Author's note: Hey there! It's time for chapter three!

This one has a different tone than the other two chapters, coz now the plot's kicking in! I hope this doesn't bother anybody. Aheh.

Hope you like it!

Please read and review! I love hearing people's thoughts. :)

* * *

 **Chapter Three** **: Fool's Paradise**

"Oh gott... oh gott... oh gott... oh gott..." Germany muttered to himself as he paced up and down the room restlessly.

"Calm down, Germany," Austria said.

Germany spun to face him. "How can I be calm?! I proposed to mein best friend, you dummkopf!"

Austria flinched. "Volume!"

Sweat began to bead on Germany's head. "How could I have not realised?! Ze book said _nozing_ about it being a proposal!"

Austria huffed. "Vell, vhat did you _zink_ it meant vhen it mentioned a restaurant, flowers, a tuxedo and a ring?"

" _I zought zey vere just presents_!"

Austria flinched again, sticking a finger in his ear. "For Chopin's sake, control your volume!" He twisted the finger a few times, then pulled it out. "You are incredibly naive. Zen again, you _are_ only about seventy..."

Germany turned away. "Scheisse..."

"Relax. Knowing Italy, he probably didn't even realise you vere doing it."

Germany paused. Could that be true? He tried to think back to that horrendous night.

He'd given Italy his favourite flowers. At first, the Italian had seemed calm. Then there'd been a lot of yelling, but he'd been too focused on getting the ring out of his pocket to really pay attention. Then there had been screaming. Plus shaking. Then Germany had hugged him and he'd screamed again.

His eyes widened.

"Oh... scheissdreck..."

* * *

Sleep had not come easy to Italy. Usually, he'd be asleep the second his head hit the pillow, but he'd been too busy worrying about Germany. He'd needed to know his best friend was okay, but all he'd been able to do was wait until the following day.

Now that it was morning, he was hurrying across Switzerland's border to the usual training ground in Germany. Thankfully, the neutral nation was always asleep at this time of the morning, so there were no bullets to dodge.

As he finally approached the training ground, he spotted Germany speaking with Japan. Overcome with jubilation, he ran over, tears in his eyes.

"Germanyyyy!" he cried, throwing his arms around his best friend from behind. The man stiffened from the contact. "Oh, I'm so glad you're alright! You really worried me for a while there! I thought you were going to die! Well, maybe not die, but get mortally, horribly brain-damaged, so you'd never call me a dummkopf again!"

"Uh, ja, ja... I'm fine..." Germany replied, prying Italy's arms off him.

"Did somesing happen?" Japan asked curiously.

Italy turned to him, still crying. "Si!" he replied. "He collapsed and then he wouldn't get up and then I had to call a taxi and then-"

"Zat's... quite alright," Germany said. "I'm fine, Japan. Don't vorry about it."

Japan silently looked between Germany and Italy for a moment. "... Very werru," he replied.

"Now, let's get on viz ze training."

"S-Si..." Italy replied.

* * *

After the training - during which Germany had gone easy on Italy, yet again - Japan said his goodbyes and went back home. Smiling, Italy walked up to Germany.

"So, you're really feeling better?" he asked.

"Ja," Germany replied, his face slightly red.

"That's good! You certainly _looked_ a lot better during training!"

"Ja."

"Oh! By the way, thanks for those presents yesterday! And the presents all week before that!"

Germany glanced away. "Ja, no... problem." He paused, looking like he wanted to say something else. "Um..."

"Hmm?" Italy blinked. As he realised something, he smiled. "Oh, of course! It's about time I asked, isn't it? Since you gave yourself a heart attack from the stress and I wouldn't-a want you to have _another_ one... so!" He straightened his back, ready to listen. "What is it you wanted?"

Germany glanced back at him. "... Huh?"

"You know! The thing you wanted! I don't know what it is, though, so you'll have to tell me!"

"... Vhat zing?"

Italy huffed. "Well, _I_ don't know, or else I wouldn't-a be asking!" He smiled again. "But you can stop pampering me now and tell me what it is you want!" Germany stared at him, saying nothing. "Is it pasta? I can cook you pasta anytime you want!" Germany continued to stare. "Oh! Maybe you want some of my paintings? Sorry, but, since lending some to France and never getting them back, I don't-a give them out anymore... but you can always visit my museums!" Germany was still staring. "Or maybe you want to make a new alliance? I'm always up for making new alliances with you! Ooh, can this one be called the Pact of Food? We can make it about-a pasta and wurst, or something!" Germany was still staring, so Italy started to get flustered. "I can't help if you don't say anything!"

"But... vhat?"

"Come on, Germany, I'm only a _little_ dim! I know those flowers and rings and chocolates and things were for a reason! So, what was it?"

Germany's eyebrows furrowed into a weird shape. One that made him look confused. He turned to stare at the ground, looking lost.

"Hmm? Germany?"

"Vell... ze roses..."

"Huh? What roses?" Italy paused a moment to think. "Ohhh, those ones! The ones _I_ gave _you_! Si, what about them?"

"Vell... zey..."

Realisation suddenly dawned on Italy. "Oh, I get it! Was all that to pay me back for the roses?" He laughed. "Wow, you mustn't get roses very often!"

"Vell, nein, but..."

"Don't-a worry! I know you're socially inept, but you didn't need to go to such lengths! After all, I gave Japan a bouquet, too!"

Germany's head snapped up, his eyes wide. "... Vhat?"

Italy smiled again. "Si! I wanted to do something nice for my friends! So I gave _him_ one after giving _you_ one!"

Germany stared at him for a long moment. Italy tilted his head, pondering this odd response.

"So, uh, si... Unless that wasn't it? Were you pampering me for some _other_ reason?"

After a long stretch of silence, Germany closed his eyes, exhaled and turned away. "N-Nein... forget about it. It's... nozing." He began walking away.

"Huh? But Germanyyyy!"

"Nein, it's... not important anymore."

"But..."

As he watched his best friend leave, Italy couldn't help pouting to himself. Was it something he'd said?

* * *

Germany stared at the ground as he walked. Italy hadn't confessed to him at all, had he? The whole thing had been a misunderstanding. Quite likely a cultural difference. Red roses on Valentine's Day probably meant very little in Italy, if anything at all. He should have known...

Now that he thought about it, all the signs had been there - every last one - but he'd been blinded by his feelings. Been far too caught up in what he'd _thought_ had been going on to notice.

The calm way he'd been given the roses. The confused and flustered reactions to his responses. It all made too much sense now.

... How could he have been so stupid?

* * *

The following day, Italy was back at the training ground. Bursting with optimism, he skipped over to Germany, saluting.

"Ready for training, _sir_!" he said with a smile.

Germany glanced at him once, then turned back to Japan. "Ja, gut," he replied. Italy deflated slightly. "Alright, now zat you're boz here, it's time to run your laps."

"Hai," Japan said.

"Si..." Italy said.

Why wasn't Germany looking at him?

* * *

As always when running, Italy's stamina was running low and his legs were starting to burn. Stopping to rest, he placed his hands on his knees and panted.

As Germany passed him yet again, the man glanced at him once, before continuing onwards.

Italy stared after him. He hadn't even stopped to say 'Good job' or 'You can rest now', like in the past week. Not even a 'Get back to running' like he used to...

He'd said nothing at all.

* * *

After training was over and Japan said his goodbyes, leaving back to his homeland, Italy forced on an optimistic smile and approached his best friend.

"Hey, Germany!" he said. "Great job in training today!"

"Ja," Germany replied, not even looking at him, "danke."

Italy's smile dipped. "So, uh..." He tried to look around his friend, but failed to meet his eyes. He smiled again, determined. "Wanna go get pasta?"

"... Nein."

"Oh. Maybe later, then? We can talk about what it is you wanted, too, while we're at it!"

"... I told you to forget about zat... and nein. I'm... very busy today."

Italy tried not to let his smile fall. "Oh, well, okay! If you say so! I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then!"

"... Ja." Without another word, Germany walked off.

Italy pouted to himself.

... Maybe Germany was just having an off-day. Yeah, that had to be it. He'd just have to try again tomorrow!

* * *

After another day of training, Italy approached his best friend with a smile. Hopefully, today, they could chat, catch up and finally discuss what he wanted!

"Hey, Germany!" he said. "Wanna hang out today? I know a great park over in Italy we could-a visit! Maybe even see the Trevi Fountain, if you want! I know how much you love visiting my country~!"

Germany turned away from him. "Nein. I'm... still very busy."

Italy's smile fell. "Aww, still?"

"Ja."

"Oh... well... another time, maybe!"

"... Ja."

* * *

The next day, Italy was running around the track, huffing and puffing, yet trying to keep going. His head perked up, however, when Germany passed him. Smiling, he ran a little bit faster to catch up to him.

"Hey..." he huffed, "Germany..."

Germany angled his head to glance at him from the corner of his eyes. "Ja?" he asked.

"Want to... play football... later? I mean, not... right away... obviously... because I'd need to... recover first..."

Germany's eyebrows narrowed slightly before he turned away. "N-Nein. Sorry."

Italy deflated. "Oh... well... some other time then?"

"... Maybe." Speeding up, Germany passed him and continued running.

In his growing sadness, Italy felt himself slowing down, until he ground to a halt. He remained stood there, on the track.

After a moment, Japan began to pass him, but slowed down to stop beside him.

"Itary?" he asked. "Are you arright?"

Italy made a pitiful whining noise. "No..."

"Oh. What's wrong?"

Tears sprung to Italy's eyes. He made another whining noise, this one getting progressively louder with his growing frustration.

Whirling around, he grabbed Japan by the shoulders and wailed.

"Japaaaan!"

His friend's eyes grew wide. "Ack!"

"I think Germany's avoiding meeee!"

Japan cried out in dismay. "Itary, prease!" Face slightly red, he gently pushed Italy away. "You know I don't rike you touching me..."

"Sorry..."

Japan took a deep breath. "Now, try again."

"Okay. Well, I think Germany's avoiding me."

Japan blinked, then silently glanced in the direction that Germany had run. After a moment, he looked back at Italy, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"Hmm. Werru, I suppose he _has_ been speaking to you ress san usuaru."

"See?! Last week, he was being really nice and now he's not talking to me anymore and I don't-a know what I did!"

"Hmm. It is very strange."

"No kidding..."

After another pause, Japan offered a small smile. "Werru, I'm sure you're oversinking it. Germany probabury has a rot on his mind ratery."

"... You're probably right."

* * *

The following day, Italy had a renewed spirit throughout training. He ran his laps as best he could, tried to retain eye contact with Germany - though it was rather difficult, since the man kept looking away - then waited until afterwards to speak to him.

Once Japan said his goodbyes and left, Italy approached his best friend, wide smile fixed in place. Perhaps, today, they'd get to hang out.

"Hey, Germany~!" he said.

"Ja?" Germany asked, glancing at him.

"Are you busy today? I was thinking we should-a go see a movie! I mean, there'll only be one, so we'll have to make-a do with whatever it is, but it still sounds fun, don't-a you think? And I hope, one day, we can pick and choose what to watch. So, anyway, what do you think? We can get popcorn and drinks and have a merry old time!"

Germany was silent for a few moments, his mouth tightening slightly. Eventually, he turned away.

"Nein. I... I can't."

Pain shot through Italy's heart, causing his smile to falter. "Oh. Are you too busy again?"

"... Ja."

After a moment, he forced the smile back on. "Oh, well, th-that's okay! I know you're a very hard worker! Keep up the good-a work, okay?"

"... Ja, sure."

The moment Germany turned to leave, Italy's smile fell.

* * *

 _"Germany!" Italy cried, running after his best friend. Germany continued to walk ahead of him, his back turned to him. He never once acknowledged his presence. Italy reached out a hand. "Germany!"_

 _His feet dragged beneath him, feeling heavier than lead. It felt like someone had forced him into cement shoes._

 _"Germany!" He grabbed the fence next to him, desperately pulling himself along. "Germany! Wait!"_

 _His best friend was getting further and further away from him, despite only walking at a casual pace. There was no way he'd ever catch up._

 _"Germany!"_

* * *

Italy's eyes snapped open to the bright afternoon sunlight. Heart thumping in his chest, he turned over to see Romano fast asleep and drooling next to him. Sighing in a mixture of relief and sadness, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

His sleeping hadn't been great lately - and that was said to be bad for an Italian - but he couldn't help it. Germany was being so distant, always saying he was busy. Granted, the nation often _was_ busy, but he'd never avoided him for this long.

It was like he just didn't want to be around him anymore... but that couldn't be the case, right? Right?

... He really missed the closeness he and Germany had developed the previous week. His friend had been so nice to him and had spent so much time with him. Why hadn't that been able to continue?

For that matter, why had it started in the first place? He still hadn't explained himself. Only said that it didn't matter anymore...

The loneliness was painful. He'd been sleeping in Romano's bed to try to ease it, but it hadn't helped. Especially since his brother sometimes kicked him in his sleep, while muttering the words 'bastards', 'tomatoes' and 'potatoes'.

Well, today was Saturday, so he'd be sure to try again! He didn't want Germany to slip away from him, after all. The man meant far too much to him to allow that.

Jumping out of bed, he ran off to get dressed.

* * *

Italy knocked on the door and waited, impatiently bouncing on the balls of his feet. When the door eventually opened, Germany stood there, looking slightly surprised.

"Italy?" he asked.

Italy's face stretched into a grin. "Ciao, Germany~!" he said. "Are you busy today? We could-a go somewhere, if you like!"

Germany's eyes scrunched slightly and he turned away.

Italy floundered and went for Plan B, instead.

"Or, if you're too busy, how about I sleep over? Then we can spend time together and you can still get-a your paperwork done, or whatever!"

"... N..."

"I'd be able to get up super early for training tomorrow, because _you'd_ be there to make me!"

"... Nein. I'm... sorry, Italy."

"Oh..." Italy deflated, his heart feeling heavy. "Okay..."

Closing his eyes, Germany slowly shut the door. "S-See you tomorrow."

"S... Si..."

* * *

Another day of training went by. Italy was having trouble keeping the smile on his face - as Germany still wasn't looking at him - and Japan seemed to notice, but he wasn't saying anything.

As soon as the Asian country left, Italy pondered going home, himself. He had to try talking to his best friend one last time, though. He just had to.

"H-Hey, Germany!" he said, holding the smile.

Germany turned to him. "Ja?" he asked.

"D... Do you have anything else for me to do? Any more training exercises?" Germany stared at him. "Oh! Maybe we could go over strategies again! Or scenarios? Or maybe we could try throwing grenades again!"

"... N-Nein, zat's not necessary."

"Oh. Well, maybe you want to hang out then?"

Germany's mouth tightened. Italy had come to realise over the last week that the expression meant 'no'.

His smile started slipping. "Oh... okay."

Germany turned to leave. Watching him go caused a pang of loneliness in Italy's heart. His eyes began to water as his smile finally fell.

"H... Hey, Germany?"

Germany stopped, not turning around. "Hmm?"

"... Do... Do you not like me anymore?"


	4. Bird in the Hand

Author's note: Hey, hey!

I was inspired to update surprisingly quickly! That's the power of reviews!

I'm not sure how long this fic will be, but I hope you enjoy what's to come!

Please be sure to read and review! :D Constructive criticism is always welcome.

* * *

 **Chapter Four** **: Bird in the Hand**

Germany whirled around, staring with wide eyes. "... Vhat?" he asked.

Italy sniffled. Unable to control himself, he wailed. "Well, you've been avoiding me and refusing to hang out with me and saying you're busy all the time!" he replied.

"V-Vell, I..." Germany looked away. " _Am_ busy..."

"Really? Doing what?"

Germany didn't respond.

Italy wailed again. "I knew it! You don't-a like me anymore!"

Germany looked back at him. "N-Nein, zat's not it. I..."

Italy flung himself at his best friend, wrapping him in a desperate hug. "Please don't-a leave me! You're the only friend I've got, besides Japan! I can be better, I swear! I can try harder! Be cooler! Just please don't-a break _my_ pact the way you broke Russia's!"

"Italy-"

"Maybe you need-a me to rescue you? We could arrange for the Allies to kidnap you and I'll go prepare my best white flags-"

"Italy-"

"I don't-a know what I did wrong, but I can atone for it, I swear! I swear on the old Catholic cross I used to wear-"

" _Italy_!"

Italy yelped, jumping in fright.

A pair of hands landed on his shoulders, pushing him away to arms' length. Still teary-eyed, he looked up at Germany.

"I am not breaking any pact, you don't need to prove your loyalty and, for god's sake, I don't dislike you!"

Italy sniffled, hope rising in his chest. "You don't?"

"Nein."

"So then... why were you avoiding me?"

Germany blinked, then looked away again. "Zat's... complicated."

The tears began anew. "You _were_ avoiding me!"

"Vell, ja, but-"

"Did I do something to anger you? I know I do that a lot, but I must have _really_ screwed up this time for you to avoid-a me for a week! And you were being so nice last week, too!" He paused a moment. "Is this because I drew on the tanks? I'm sorry! I know you hate-a me doing that, but they make a really great canvas and, not to mention, it's quite challenging to draw around the rivets. It really tests me as an artist, you know?"

"Italy-"

"Or maybe you finally got annoyed about-a me running less laps than usual? I'm sorry! It's just that, if you _offer_ me less laps, then I'm going to _do_ less laps, you know?"

"Italy-"

"Or, oh! Maybe I was supposed to just _know_ what it was you wanted from me and the fact that I _didn't_ , and kept asking questions about it, made you mad, so-"

" _Italy_!"

Italy jumped and yelped.

" _I vas embarrassed, alright_?!"

Italy paused, blinking in confusion. "... Embarrassed?"

Germany's face turned bright red, angry scowl still present. "Ja. Embarrassed. It vas hard to look you in ze eye, after..." He looked away.

"Hmm? After what?"

There was a long, agonising stretch of silence.

Eventually, Germany spoke with a very strained voice, the grip on Italy's shoulders tightening slightly.

"Italy. Do you know vhat red roses mean in Germany?"

Italy tilted his head. "Huh?"

"... Especially on Valentine's Day?"

"Ummm... no? Should I?"

Germany closed his eyes for a second, looking frustrated. Opening them again, he looked directly at Italy.

"Zey're a c... confession..."

"Confession?"

"Ja." Germany paused a long moment. "Of love."

Italy continued to stare at him, wondering why he was being told this. Then he remembered.

His eyes shot open. "Wait, what?!"

Germany looked away again, his arms falling to his sides. He said nothing in response.

"So... what? Did you think I was... confessing to you?"

Germany's shoulders hunched slightly, but still he said nothing.

"But wait, what? But that doesn't make any..."

Italy trailed off as he suddenly remembered the previous week. All the flowers and chocolates. All the compliments about his hair, his uniform and his doodle of Austria. All the nice gestures, like not scolding him, cooking him his favourite meal and taking him out to a fancy restaurant.

"... You... Were you...?"

"I zought it vould make you happy, okay?"

Germany had been courting him. He almost felt his brain explode from the absurdity of that statement, but there it was. Stern, stoic, stick-up-his-ass Germany... had been courting him.

... Well, that certainly explained why it had felt like they'd been dating. They actually _had_ been.

He felt his face erupt in heat. "Oh... uh... well..."

There was a long, awkward silence as they both looked anywhere but at each other.

"So... ja..." Germany's voice cracked slightly. He cleared his throat. "I zought you'd confessed, but I realised zat vasn't ze case. I'd... made a colossal mistake and couldn't look at you for ze shame. Are you happy now?"

"S... Si..." Italy paused a long moment. Only in the silence did he realise his heart was pounding against his ribcage. "So, uh... Germany?"

Germany still wasn't looking at him. "Mmm?"

"Does... does that mean you...?"

Instantly, Germany whirled to face him, frowning and redder than before. "I-I only did zat to make you happy! D-Don't misunderstand!"

Italy deflated slightly, his eyes sliding shut. "O-Oh. Si, of course."

"I-I did it because I zought you'd appreciate it, but it turns out I vas wrong, so... just forget zis embarrassing zing ever happened!" Whirling back around, Germany began to storm off.

"Okay..."

Mid-walk, Germany stopped, whirling around again. "And, b-before you ask, nein, zat vasn't a proposal!"

Italy's face burned slightly hotter in remembrance.

"It may have _looked_ like von, but, I assure you, it vasn't!"

"O-Okay..."

Well, he'd figured as much, since same-sex marriage wasn't legal in _either_ of their countries right now, but still. Then again, he wasn't sure if that law applied to nations or not. He chose not to think about it.

Saying no more, Germany turned around again and stormed off.

After a few moments of watching him leave, his mind swimming with thoughts too complex for his liking, a sudden thought occurred to Italy and he panicked.

"W-Wait! We're still friends, right?"

"Of course ve are, you dummkopf!"

His fears instantly melted away. "Oh! Okay!"

He continued to watch, even as his best friend disappeared from view.

... Wow. What a misunderstanding that had been.

To think, though, he'd been dating Germany for a week and hadn't even realised. If only he'd known, he'd have been happy to take advantage of it. They could have gone on dates. Watched movies, shared spaghetti, taken a walk under a star-filled sky and other delightfully clichéd things.

... Would that have been fair, though? As he'd suspected from the start, Germany didn't feel that way about him, so making him do all those cute, couple-y things probably would have been torture for the poor man.

It didn't help that same-sex relationships weren't currently allowed in Germany.

Ah well. As he'd told himself over and over again, being best friends forever was more than enough.

For Germany to go out of his way to make him happy, though, despite not feeling anything romantic for him...

It was so nice. So kind. So selfless. He'd had no obligation to do it, but he'd gone and done it anyway. Just to make him happy...

An all-too-familiar warmth spread over his heart at the thought.

Urgh. Trust Germany to make this feeling harder to ignore. By accident, no less...

* * *

"... And that's what happened!" Italy explained.

Japan stared, wide-eyed, at him over his mug of green tea. "... Oh," he replied.

"So, as you can see, it was _quite_ the misunderstanding!" Italy laughed.

"... Hai."

"Well, I've learned _my_ lesson! Never give Germany red roses, like, ever!"

"Hai..." Japan slowly placed his mug on the kotatsu they were kneeling by.

Italy suddenly felt worried. "Oh, but the roses didn't mean anything to _you_ , right?"

"No."

Italy breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness! I don't think I could handle that kind of stuff twice!" He paused. "Now I don't know what to do about Valentine's Day in the future... Chocolates, maybe?"

Japan's eyes bulged. "Nani?!"

Italy jumped. "What?! What is it?!"

Japan blushed. "Oh, gomenasai... it is probabury just... anoser difference in curuture..."

"Eh?"

"In Japan, chocorate is often given on Varentine's Day as a confession."

Italy blinked. Then blinked again. His eyebrows rose. "Ohhh, I get it! That's why you don't-a want chocolates for Valentine's Day."

Japan glanced away, probably embarrassed that he'd been heard two weeks ago. "Hai..."

"Ohhh, okay..." Italy paused in thought for a long moment, his smile dropping in dismay. "Urgh... maybe I should just-a buy alcohol or something next year..."

* * *

Sitting on his bed, Italy stared down at the tomato ring, resting neatly inside the cushioning of its box.

He wasn't one for jewellery, personally, but even he had to admit that it was a very nice ring.

Heh. Trust Germany to request a tomato shape, though. Maybe it was to commemorate the strange way they'd met twenty-six years ago, with him pretending to be the 'box of tomatoes fairy'.

Who knows why he hadn't met Germany before that. One would think he _would_ have, considering they'd been on the same side in the Triple Alliance - with Austria and Hungary, who'd merged their countries at the time - but they'd somehow never crossed paths. Before Italy's boss had told him to switch sides, over to the Triple Entente - with Britain, France and Russia - anyway.

He'd certainly heard stories of Germany, though. The big, burly, scary nation who hadn't been very old, yet had been taking the world by storm. When he'd been told to fight against him in the Battle of Caporetto, he'd screamed, cried and refused, so Russia had nailed him inside a crate and left him on the battlefield.

... God, if Romano found out about this ring, who knows how he'd react. Violently, no doubt. It might be in his best interest to hide it somewhere.

Hmm. He had a box under the bed that would be perfect for this, didn't he? Closing the lid, he climbed down off the bed and reached underneath it, stretching until he was lying flat on his stomach, and gradually pulled out the small box.

Kneeling back, he placed the box in front of him and opened it up, prepared to drop the ring box in it and put it back. When he noticed the letters inside it, however, he paused.

Of course. This was the same box he'd used to store the last of his letters from Holy Rome. His heart clenched as he stared down at them.

They'd spent many decades apart, but had kept in contact. He was almost positive that the last letter from him was in this very box.

The one that had called him a girl.

He'd been so confused. Why would Holy Rome refer to him as a girl? Sure, he used to wear a skirt and apron, but was the empire really unaware that he was actually a boy? So, he'd written a letter back, explaining.

He'd never gotten a reply.

Sighing, Italy gently placed the ring box inside and closed the lid. With a heavy heart, he slid back onto his stomach and returned the box to the very back of its hiding place.

... It was times like this that he wished he _was_ a hundred percent straight...

* * *

Sitting on his bed, Germany stared down at the blue book in his hands. For better or for worse, this book had changed everything. As had the wilted roses on his shelf.

They'd almost ruined the strongest friendship he had and had made him see his best friend in an entirely new way. A way that he should never have seen him.

He sighed to himself, ashamed of his behaviour. Firstly, he'd lost all common sense at the first sign of romantic affection from another person. Then, upon realising the truth, he'd handled it poorly, upsetting his best friend. He knew Italy had abandonment issues. He knew this. Yet he hadn't taken it into consideration at all.

He really _was_ a disgrace.

... Maybe he should hide this book elsewhere, instead of putting it back on the shelf. For one, he didn't want Italy finding it when he inevitably started snooping around again and, for another, he'd prefer it if this disastrous event was dead and buried. Out of sight, out of mind.

He just hoped to god his boss never found out about any of it. He really didn't want to have to wear the pink triangle of shame...

... Though, honestly, he probably deserved to.

* * *

The following day, Italy was hurrying over to the training ground, where Germany and Japan were chatting as they waited for him. Germany was oddly red-faced and Japan looked awkward.

"Ciao, guys~!" Italy said, stopping in-line beside Japan.

They both looked over at him.

"Guten tag," Germany replied.

"Konnichiwa," Japan replied.

Germany looked between them both. "Alright, it's time to begin ze training. Is everybody ready?"

"Hai."

"Si!" Italy replied.

"Alright, zen. Let's begin!"

* * *

Italy's legs were burning. His breath was coming out in ragged pants and he felt completely exhausted. He was about ready to stop when Germany began to pass him again.

The German gave him a look that was somewhere in-between stern and uncertain. In that moment, Italy realised that he wasn't going to be let off easy anymore. The time for that had passed. Groaning, he kept running, trying to think of nice things to keep him motivated. Things like girls and pasta.

Giving him a single nod of approval, Germany ran past him.

Well, at least he was acknowledging his existence now...

* * *

Once training was over, Japan said his goodbyes and left. After he disappeared from view, Germany and Italy turned to one another. An awkward silence hung in the air.

"So, uh..." Italy said.

"Ja," Germany replied.

The silence dragged on a while longer.

Eventually, Italy decided to speak. "This doesn't change anything, right?"

"Nein, nein, of course not."

"So, we're still friends?"

"Ja, of course."

Italy smiled. "That's good!"

A tiny smile graced Germany's lips. "Ja."

Wow, that was the first smile he'd seen on him all week! It made something flutter in his chest.

"So, so! Do you want to hang out today?" He hesitated. "Or are you too busy?"

Germany paused a few moments. Then he exhaled with another tiny smile. "Nein, ve can hang out if you vant."

His insides now glowing, Italy's smile stretched across his face. "Really?!"

"Ja."

"Oh, oh! Can I sleep over, too?"

Germany gave him an exasperated glance. Then he rolled his eyes. "Ja, vhatever."

"Yahoo!"

If nothing else, it was great that things were back to normal now.


	5. Thick as Thieves

Author's note: Hi, everyone!

... Yeah. This chapter's a bit different, as you'll see. It required a lot - and I mean _a lot_ \- of research. It's a lot like another fic of mine, but I like this one better, because it's much more historically accurate. :D

Hope you enjoy it!

Feel free to leave comments, as comments can be very motivating!

(I have an ego the size of a grape, you see, so every little helps!)

* * *

 **Chapter Five** **: Thick as Thieves**

"You want us to do _what_?!" Italy wailed.

"Si, you heard-a me," his new boss replied from behind his desk. The old boss had been taken out of power and imprisoned two months ago. "Surrender to the Allies. Let them do their Operation Avalanche, or whatever, and we can finally stop fighting for the Germans."

"But... but..."

This couldn't be happening. This really couldn't be happening...

"Oh, freaking finally!" Romano cried out. "I thought-a we'd _never_ be rid of that potato-loving bastard!"

"But..."

Romano turned to Italy and put a hand on his arm. "Trust me, fratello, it's for the best." After a moment's pause, he tightened his grip and began dragging him out the door. "Now, come on! We've got a peace treaty to sign and a kraut to escape!"

Panicking, Italy tried to dig his heels into the floor, to no avail.

"Wait! But... fratelloooo!"

* * *

Loud laughter rang throughout the room. "Awesome, dudes!" America said as he looked over the form. "You made the right choice, surrendering to the hero!"

"Yeah, yeah," Romano grumbled, "don't-a get a big head over it..."

"That's quite impossible with him..." Britain replied.

"Conquering less fun when it permitted, comrade..." Russia said with a slight pout.

"Ohon," France said, sidling over to the Italy brothers, "does zat mean you're part of ze Allies now~?"

Romano moved away angrily. "Look, just-a because we're surrendering, doesn't mean we have to like you!" he replied.

"Aiya..." China grumbled, "more annoying Westerners..."

"Alright, dudes," America said, "time to go over the plan again!"

"And don't-a forget," Romano snapped, "we want reinforcements for when the potato bastard finds out!"

America waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, we'll get on it~!"

As the Allies loudly discussed and argued amongst themselves, Italy glanced sadly down at the form in America's hands. How was he going to explain this to Germany?

* * *

"... Vhat?" Germany asked, staring blankly at Italy in his doorway.

"Si..." Italy said, trying to smile, "Romano and I surrendered to the Allies, so I'm... technically not-a part of the Axis Powers anymore?"

Germany continued to stare at him, his hand still on the doorknob. After a long, tense moment, his mouth tightened into a thin line. He lowered his head, his cap's shadow covering his eyes.

Now Italy started to get worried. "... Germany?"

As the hand on the doorknob tightened, Germany's head suddenly snapped up. " _You scheisskerl_!"

Italy screamed at the intense volume. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Vhat ze hell, Italy?!"

"I'm sorryyyy!"

A few moments passed. Eventually, Germany huffed. "... Alright... fine..." His gaze hardened. "Zen I guess zat makes us enemies."

Italy's eyes flew open in horror. "Enemies?!"

"Ja." Reaching out, Germany grabbed him by the back of the collar and lifted him off his feet. He yelped in surprise. "And, as mein enemy... you are also mein prisoner."

"What?!" Italy squirmed in his grip. "Noooo! Germanyyyy!"

Germany's gaze hardened. "You brought zis upon yourself."

Tears began to pool in Italy's eyes as the door was closed behind him and he was carried to the holding cell.

* * *

Word soon spread of Italy's capture. As well as Germany's boss's plan to take back the country of Italy. While Germany was off fighting the Allies, however, Italy continued to stare miserably at the walls of his cell.

These blue walls... He hadn't seen them since he'd been captured back in World War One, twenty-six years ago. Back then, the two of them had barely known each other. He hadn't been sad about Germany's treatment of him, because it had been better than anything else he'd been offered.

A lot had changed since then, though...

He whined to himself. Germany hadn't spoken to him for a while now. He'd feed him and give him anything he needed, but he'd do so with a cold, stoic expression. It was worse than that time seven months ago, when the man had avoided him for a week.

... Would he lose his best friend for real this time?

* * *

Lying back, with his head on a cushion, Italy was quietly reading through a book entitled Girls Around The World - which Germany had given him earlier - when a hole was suddenly blasted into the side of his cell. He jumped, screaming in shock.

When the dust cleared, Romano stepped over the fallen debris, a rifle in his hands. "That potato-loving bastard thinks he can just imprison _my_ little brother, ah?!" he yelled.

"Fratello?" Italy asked.

"Si. Come on, let's blow this joint!"

"But..."

Suddenly, Germany came running into the room. "Vhat ze hell is going on?!" he yelled.

"Oh, I'll _tell_ you what's going on, kraut-face!" Romano snapped, holding up the rifle and pointing it at Germany. "My brother and I are declaring war on your ass!"

"Var?!"

Germany whirled on Italy, looking furious. Something else seemed to flash across his eyes at the same time, though.

Italy glanced back and forth between the two men. "Well..." he said, "but... I..."

Romano jerked his head towards the hole in the wall. "Come on, fratello," he said. "Let's go."

Frantically, Italy kept looking back and forth between the two, conflicted.

Eventually, his eyes landed on Germany. The man looked away.

"... Vell, go, if you're going!" he snapped.

Italy's heart broke.

His mind began to whirl backwards, replaying all the happy memories he'd experienced with his best friend. From being treated nicely in World War One... to being given a job during his country's slump... to becoming friends in World War Two... to the pact they'd made a few years later... to all the times they'd hung out, slept in the same bed and enjoyed each others' company.

... Was he really going to let his boss ruin that?

After a few moments, he turned to Romano. "Sorry, fratello... but... I think I'll stay here."

Romano turned to him, eyes ablaze with confusion and fury. " _What_?!" he yelled.

He tried to smile at him. "I-I want to stay with Germany."

"... Are you freaking serious?! You'd rather stay with this kraut than your own brother?!"

"Well, si, it's nothing personal, just that Germany's my best friend and all."

"Our freaking boss told us to join the Allies! Or did your dumbass brain forget that already?!"

The smile finally slipped and tears pooled in his eyes. "I know, but I never _wanted_ that!"

"So, what?! You're going to ignore a direct order?!"

Italy sniffled. "... Si..."

There was a tense few moments of silence. Then Romano's grip on his rifle tightened.

"You do know, fratello... that, if you stay here, we'll be fighting against each other?"

"... Si."

Tears were starting to pool in Romano's eyes. "And you're okay with that?"

Italy was silent for a moment as he considered this. No, he wasn't okay with it, but the other option was much worse.

"... Si."

Romano gritted his teeth, tears spilling from his eyes. "Alright, fine! _Fine_! _Stay_ with the potato bastard! _See if I care_!" He turned and ran out the hole in the wall.

Italy made a small whining noise. After a moment, he turned apprehensively to look at Germany. He was surprised to see that the man was staring at him.

"You... you vant to stay _here_?" Germany asked.

"Si."

"But... vhy? I zought..."

"I never wanted to join the Allies." Italy wiped away his tears. "I don't-a like them nearly as much as I like you."

Germany's face reddened slightly. "V-Vell..." He paused a moment. "But von't your boss be mad? You disobeyed a direct order from him. Plus, now, you have to fight against your brozer..."

"Si, I know..."

"... Is zis really vhat you vant?" Germany glanced away. "I von't hold it against you, you know... Now zat I know it vasn't _your_ idea..."

Italy watched him for a moment. Then he smiled. "Well, no, but... I'd rather betray them than you. After all, we promised to be friends forever, remember?"

Germany glanced back at him. "J... Ja..."

"And I intend to stick to that! That is, if you're willing to have me back!"

"... Vell, if you're sure you von't regret it."

"I won't!" Standing up, Italy bounded over to Germany and held out his pinky finger. "Friends forever?"

Germany glanced down at the outstretched finger, then up at Italy. After a few moments, he exhaled and held out his own pinky finger. Italy happily linked them together.

He got a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest when he did this. He immediately knew that he'd made the right choice.

* * *

Life had gotten relatively back to normal since Italy had decided to stay with the Axis Powers. He still lived in his house in Northern Italy, he still trained with Germany and Japan every morning and he still slept in Germany's bed occasionally. He'd even gotten his old boss back when Germany had broken him out of prison. The man had happily given Italy the title of the Italian Social Republic.

The only differences were a long, angry letter from his other boss - that spanned around ten pages - about the importance of loyalty to one's country and Romano going back to live in Southern Italy for a while. He refused to be anywhere near his 'traitorous brother'.

* * *

Eventually came the day that Italy had been dreading. The day that he would face his brother on the battlefield.

"Stupid fratello!" Romano yelled with tears in his eyes as he smacked Italy with a stick, over and over again. "Thinks the stupid potato bastard is better than me!"

Italy cried out in dismay. "Please stop hitting meeee!" he whined, desperately waving his white flag.

"Stupid potato-loving bastard-loving bastard!"

"But fratello, don't-a you mean-?"

"I know what I said, damn it!"

America laughed loudly from the sidelines. "Aww, man, this is too funny!" he said.

"... It's embarrassing, is what it is..." Britain replied.

"Alright, zat's enough, you two..." Germany said, walking over.

Picking up Italy by the back of his collar, he carried him away from the battlefield.

"Ohh no, I'm not done with you yet!" Romano yelled, chasing after them and smacking Italy on the head some more.

Italy whined again in dismay. "I surrender!" he cried.

"No, you don't, or else you would have joined-a the Allies!"

In one swift motion, Germany swiped away the stick, glaring. "I said..." he said, snapping the stick in half, "zat's enough..."

Romano glared back at him. "... Tch."

Germany turned around and continued walking.

Italy massaged his sore head. He couldn't wait until this war was over...

* * *

 **1945**

Germany stared down at the letter in his shaking hand, his heart filling with dread. He knew this day had been coming, yet his many, many months of training had still left him unprepared.

 _Privyet, Germany!_

 _I came to be visiting lovely city of Berlin! The other Allies move like snails, so I get here first! Poland also here. Say hi, Poland!_

 _Czesc! This city could be doing with pretty paint job, but it not so bad! Be seeing you soon! Then I pay you back for invasion! Peace out!_

 _Oh, that Poland! Well, hoping to see you soon, comrade! Then we talk about how it bad to break pacts, da?_

 _Russia x_

In his horror, Germany crushed the letter in his hand.

* * *

They were losing, Germany couldn't help but think as he readied his weapon for another round in Berlin. With the Allies occupying more and more Italian land, they were running out of options and he knew that his friends could sense it, too. Italy constantly looked worried lately and Japan - who was currently elsewhere - had been quieter than usual.

"... Are you off to fight Russia again?" Italy asked.

"Ja," he replied, choosing not to look at him for the moment.

"Good luck..."

"Danke." After some final preparations, he felt ready to head out. "Alright, I'm off." He glanced back at Italy. "Be sure to look after yourself vhile-"

"Operation Grapeshot, go!" a loud voice suddenly yelled.

Germany and Italy both spun around in shock and confusion.

"Eat shit, kraut-face!" another voice yelled before a smoke bomb suddenly exploded in their faces.

"Tally ho!" another voice yelled as a second smoke bomb exploded from the other side.

Italy yelped in fright.

Scowling, Germany coughed. "Sch... Scheisse..." he muttered.

"Germany?" Italy called out. "I can't see you! Where-?" There was a sudden screech.

"Heroooo!" a voice yelled.

"Germany, save me!"

Germany's eyes widened in horror. He spun his head around, trying to find his best friend. "Italy?! Italy!"

Eventually, the smoke cleared. In front of him stood Britain, with his arms folded, Romano, who had his hands on his hips - both of which were smirking - and America, who was holding Italy up by the back of his collar and laughing.

Germany felt his blood boil. "You let him go right now!"

America laughed loudly. "No way, dude!" he replied. "We're liberating him!"

"You're vhat?"

"Liberating him! Giving him his freedoooom!"

"That's right!" Romano agreed. "You're not-a going to control my little brother _anymore_! So, we're taking him into custody!"

"C... Control?" Germany asked uncertainly.

"Yes," Britain agreed, "he's been under your thumb for quite long enough, don't you think?"

Germany paused to consider this.

"Noooo!" Italy cried, trying to wriggle free of America's grasp. "I don't-a want to go! Don't let them take me, Germanyyyy!"

Control. Well, it wasn't as if he'd _forced_ Italy to stay in the Axis Powers. He'd done that of his own free will, but he could see why it might look otherwise to the Allies.

... Though, honestly, would it really benefit Italy to stay on this side? They were losing quite badly. Any day now, he had a feeling they'd have to surrender, but did Italy need to be a part of that? Did he need to watch his friends fail at their goal?

"... Alright, fine," Germany replied.

All four of them stared at him.

"What?" Romano asked.

"Fine. Take him."

"What?!" Italy cried.

Germany turned to look Italy in the eyes. "... Behave yourself on zat side. I'll... see you soon."

"Eh?"

"Huh..." Britain said, "that was... far easier than I'd expected."

"Yeah!" America agreed. "Sweet!" He laughed loudly. "The hero is victorious!"

"Hmph," Germany replied, walking past him in the direction of Berlin. "Ja, ja..."

He glanced one last time at Italy. When he saw the hurt expression on his face, something inside him ached, so he turned away again.

* * *

Italy stared down at the food tray in his prison cell. Hamburger, fries and soda again. He whined to himself, shoving the tray away. He'd been in here for about ten days now, eating this horrible food, because the Allies didn't trust him not to run back to Germany's aid. He knew when he was beaten, though.

Germany had even told him to surrender. That had stung, though it was understandable. He was a pretty useless soldier after all, so he'd only slow his best friend down.

While he'd been in here, he'd heard all sorts of news. His reinstated boss had tried to run away, but had been caught and smacked with a stick by Romano, Germany's boss had completely given up and Germany himself had declared Russia the winner in Berlin.

... He hoped Germany was doing okay without him. It was very lonely not being able to see him for so long...

* * *

Italy was mid-way through counting the ceiling tiles again when the door to his cell was suddenly flung open. In surprise, he looked up, only for his eyes to snap open.

"Germany?!" he asked.

His best friend was shoved inside by a laughing America, before the door was slammed behind him.

"Alright!" America said. "Two down, one to go!" He strutted away, looking very pleased with himself.

There was an awkward silence in the prison cell.

"... So... you surrendered?"

Germany looked away. "Ja," he replied.

"Oh... and Japan?"

Germany slowly shook his head. "Nein."

"Oh."

There was another awkward silence.

Eventually, Italy smiled, closing his eyes. "Well, it's good to see you again."

"Ja. You too..."

* * *

Britain groaned, running a hand through his hair. Well, they were making great progress, at least, since the Italian Social Republic had been disbanded and Germany had surrendered, but Japan was being very stubborn. Something about some Bushy-dough code, or whatever. He had no idea. He just wanted this blasted war over with.

Grumbling, he figured he might as well check on the prisoners one last time before heading home for the night. America was currently keeping them, but that was only because the man had insisted. He probably wanted to look like the big hero, or whatever.

As annoying as that was, he was glad that someone else was keeping them. He didn't need his cooking insulted for the millionth time...

Stopping by the holding cell, he peered inside. What he saw, however, made his eyebrows rise in surprise.

Germany was lying on his back on the floor, fast asleep, and Italy, also fast asleep, was using his bulky torso as a pillow. They were nestled in close together and looked quite comfortable.

It was almost cute...

He huffed in slight amusement. How those two had become so close in only six years, he had no idea. Hell, perhaps even longer. Regardless, countries usually took decades - maybe even centuries - to get as close as they were.

Shaking his head at this strange development, he turned around and headed for home.


	6. Arm and a Leg

Author's note: Hi, guys!

Here I am again with more history, fluff and hurt/comfort! You like that, right? I certainly hope so. I know I do!

... And, before you ask, no, the fic's not over yet. Not for a while. XD We're in this for the long haul.

How long is the fic? I dunno, but my hope is that you're enjoying it.

Leave reviews and lemme know!

Please? XP

... Anyway, on with the chapter!

* * *

 **Chapter Six** **: Arm and a Leg**

"Got any threes?" Italy asked with a smile.

"Nein," Germany replied. "Go fish."

Italy pouted. "Aww."

They'd been in this prison cell for three months now, waiting for Japan to surrender. Italy had to hand it to the guy; he was really stubborn.

Reaching down to the deck of cards that America had let them borrow, he grabbed the one at the top of the pile.

"Come here, fishy fishy~" he said, lifting it up.

He placed it amongst his other cards. Upon seeing that it was a five, he pouted again, making a slight squeak of disappointment.

Germany scanned his own cards. "Hmm... got any-?"

Suddenly, the door to their cell opened. Both heads spun around to see America shoving Japan inside, before shutting the door.

They stared at their former teammate in disbelief. His clothes were torn, frayed and dirty and his face was covered in cuts and bruises. He looked like he'd been run over by several trucks.

"Sorry again about the attack, dude," America said with a sympathetic smile. "Got a little carried away."

Japan self-consciously brushed himself down. "Don't worry about it," he replied.

"Although you _were_ being a stubborn asshole about surrendering, it wasn't nice to hit you so hard."

"Rike I said, don't worry about it."

America paused a moment. "Well, if you say so, dude!" He put on a smug grin. "Well, now that I've caught 'em all, that officially makes me the hero! Not that anyone was surprised!" He laughed loudly. "I'll be sure to let you out again in... however long it takes to get your surrender signed! 'Cause your boss is being as difficult as _you_ were!" Laughing again, he wandered off.

An awkward silence hung in the air as Japan slowly turned to look at his former teammates.

"Um..." After a moment, he bowed slightly. "Konnichiwa."

The silence continued for a long moment.

"... Wow, you're a mess!" Italy cried.

Blushing, Japan turned away. "Hai..."

Germany heaved a sigh. "Took you long enough to surrender..." he said.

"Hai... werru, I had to forrow se Bushido Code, so..."

Italy stared at him. "Um..." he replied, "bless you?"

Japan gave him a blank stare. "... It is a system in my country. Aruso known as 'se way of se warrior'."

"... Eh?"

Japan sighed. "Integrity. Respect. Heroic courage. Honour. Compassion. Sincerity. Royaruty. Most of sese prevented me from surrendering."

"... I'll never understand your culture," Germany said.

"Me neither," Italy agreed. "... You're going to be okay, though, right? That looks like it hurts."

"I'rru be fine."

"Well, okay." Italy paused a long moment. "So, you wanna play cards with us?"

"... Hai."

* * *

Over two weeks passed, during which time the former Axis Powers played card games, read books and told stories, until they were finally let out. Japan signed a formal surrender before being released. Germany, however, was kept behind. Italy had decided to stay with him, but was told to stand in the corner while matters were discussed.

"So, dude," America said to Germany, who was sitting on a chair. Four of the Allies were standing around him in a circle. "First order of business! We're liberating all the countries you invaded and annexed and are giving them back their freedoooom!"

"... Alright," Germany replied.

"Also! We've been discussing the matter of what to do, now that you've surrendered and stuff, and decided that we can't trust you for crap! So, we're gonna be taking pieces of your land to knock you down a few pegs!"

"... Vhat?"

"Oui," France agreed, "because you sorely need it, mon ami."

"Damn right he does!" America said. He held out a map and unravelled it, holding it in front of Germany. "Behold!"

On the map was the country of Germany, divided into four sections. The top left side was labelled 'Property of Tea-taxer', the top right side was labelled 'Property of Freedom-hater', the bottom left side was labelled 'Property of Statue-giver' and the bottom right side was labelled 'Property of The Greatest Country On Earth!'

"... You can't be serious."

"Oh, we're _very_ serious! Right, guys?"

"Da," Russia replied with a pleasant smile.

"Oui," France replied with a smirk.

"Quite," Britain replied, lacking any sort of smile.

"And you have _no_ say in the matter, if you wanna get in our good books!" America said, laughing again.

Germany gritted his teeth. They had him there. He could hear Italy whimpering slightly in the corner, but he tried to ignore it.

"... Alright, fine," he replied.

"Oh, that good, comrade!" Russia said. "I also take Prussia into my house, da?"

Germany did a double-take. "Vait, vhat?!"

"Da. I claim East Germany and Prussia technically East Germany, correct? So he come live with me!"

Anger surged up within him. "Nein! You can't-"

Russia turned to him, his smile tightening. "Can't?"

Germany hesitated, recalling the Battle of Berlin and that blasted metal pipe. His head stung slightly just thinking about it.

Clenching his eyes in defeat, he lowered his head. "Alright, fine... just... look after him, von't you?"

"Da~"

America laughed. "I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him, dude!" he said. "And I can throw pretty damn far!"

"... You wish to start fight, America?"

"Ready when you are, bruh!"

"Oh, don't bloody start this again..." Britain grumbled.

"Oui!" France agreed. "If you are going to be doing ze glaring contest, zen take it elsewhere!"

"Alright, alright," America replied.

"... You're still bloody doing it!" Britain snapped.

Germany didn't even bother to look at them. What was the point, really?

* * *

"I'm sorry about your land, Germany..." Italy said sadly.

Germany sighed as he leaned against the building. Inside, he was sure that America and Russia were still glaring at one another.

"It's alright..." he replied.

"... And I'm sorry about Prussia, too."

"Me too..."

He glanced up at the sky. He could only imagine how his older brother would cope living in Russia's house. The man was a strong nation, sure, but he knew what Russia was like. He'd seen the other nations who'd lived in that house.

"... Well, I'm sure he'll be back before you know it!"

"Ja..."

"... And, well, you'll always have me!"

Germany turned to look at his friend, who was smiling encouragingly at him. He couldn't help the warmth he felt in his chest at the sight.

"... Danke."

Italy smiled wider. "No problem!"

* * *

Sitting on his couch, Germany looked around him at the empty living room. No longer was Austria sleeping over, eating his food and reading his books. Not now that he'd been 'freed' from his annexation.

It wasn't as if he was sad to see him go - he wasn't the biggest fan of his fellow German-speaking nation - but now it was deathly quiet in here. No sounds of kitchen explosions, complaining or piano-playing. There was no sound at all.

As the silence continued to drag on, he couldn't help but think of his brother, Prussia, again. How long would he have to live in Russia's house? How long would it be until he'd see him again? The man was loud, obnoxious and overly narcissistic, but he didn't deserve that.

He sighed heavily through his nostrils, trying hard to ignore how much less powerful he felt now. It was like he'd lost a large portion of what had made him so strong, so formidable. Perhaps he'd get it back one day, but, for now, he was powerless to the whims of the Allies.

Drowning in the ever-present silence, he tried to occupy his mind with what he'd be doing tomorrow. As he began to picture running laps around the training field, he was suddenly hit with a realisation; he wouldn't have to do that anymore.

In fact, now that the war was over, he'd have to adjust to a life of poverty again, wouldn't he? Working to pay off reparations to the Allies and trying to rebuild his reputation.

... Well, as long as he wouldn't have to make those blasted cuckoo clocks again, he might be able to cope.

* * *

"Moshi moshi?" Japan asked from the other end of the phone.

"Guten tag," Germany replied. "I vas just calling to tell you zat training is no longer necessary."

"I see. I suspected sat would be se case."

"Ja. I just zought I'd let you know, zough."

"Werru, arigatou."

Germany paused. "... Good luck viz everyzing."

"Hai. You too."

"Tschuss."

"Ja ne."

Germany placed the phone back on its hanger. After releasing a calming breath, he picked it back up again and dialled another number. He waited a few rings before someone picked up.

"Pronto~?" Italy asked cheerfully.

"Guten tag."

"Oh, ciao, Germany!"

"I vas just calling to tell you zat training is no longer necessary."

"... No training?"

"Nein. Viz ze var over, I see no need to continue."

"Oh, that's great! So, there's no more laps to run?"

"Nein."

"Oh, sweet relief!"

Germany felt a pang in his heart at that. "... Try not to sound _too_ disappointed..."

"Sorry. It's just, you know, I never did-a like running laps."

"Nein, you really didn't."

There was a pause. "Oh, but we can still hang out, though, right? I mean, we're not training together anymore - which is a-okay with me - but you're going to need some company in your country's slump, right?"

"Vell, I..."

"Unless... oh, unless you think the pact has reached its expiration date, now that the war's over!"

"Italy-"

"And you don't-a want to hang out anymore, now that I'm no longer your soldier!"

"Italy! Ve are not doing zis scheisse again!"

"... What scheisse?"

"... Anyvay, sure. Ve can continue to hang out... even zough ze var is over."

"Oh, really?"

"Ja."

"Hooray! That's happy."

A tiny smile forced its way onto Germany's mouth. His friend was so kind. So loyal. It warmed his heart to know that someone cared so much. That someone wanted to hang out with him, even after their alliance was no longer necessary.

The second he realised what he was feeling, he forcefully squashed it back down.

* * *

 **1948**

"So, what do you want to do today?" Italy asked cheerfully as he and Germany strode down the street.

It had been a few years since the end of World War Two and Germany had spent that time slaving away to pay for all the damage he'd caused. In the meantime, a lot had happened. The nation of Prussia had been dissolved - though, thankfully, Germany's brother was still around - and America and Russia's hostilities towards each other had steadily grown. The two would often be spotted either glaring across borders at one another or bragging about how much better their governments were. Germany had learned to ignore them, far more focused on other important things. Especially when Russia had decided to put up a blockade in Berlin some time ago, purely to annoy the other Allies.

"I don't know," Germany replied. "Vhat do _you_ feel like doing?"

"Hmm... how about-?" Italy went silent as two very pretty German ladies walked past. He immediately dashed over to them. "Ciao, ladies~!"

"Oh, guten tag," one of them replied.

"You're both very bellisimo! In fact, one might say you're bellisimo belle~!"

"Zis charmer over here..." the other one said with a smirk.

"Hee, well, you know~!"

Germany felt his eye twitch at the shameless display. At the same time, he was trying to ignore the annoying ache he felt at that love-struck expression on Italy's face.

"Okay, vell, ve'd better get going," the first woman said. "Tschuss!"

"Ciao!" Italy waved as the two women walked off, giggling to each other. After a moment, he walked back over to Germany, a goofy grin on his face. "Hee~! Did you see the bosom on that blonde one? Quite impressive~"

Germany scowled at him. "Ja, I noticed how you vere ogling it."

"Hee~"

Germany grunted in annoyance. "Come on, let's go." He continued walking at a brisk pace.

"Hey, wait for me!"

* * *

As Italy walked, he couldn't help stealing glances at his surly best friend. The man was walking unusually fast and he had a large amount of frown lines on his face.

He knew that Germany didn't like it when he flirted with girls - he tended to call it a 'stupid waste of time' - but it seemed to annoy him a lot more as of late. Italy would put it down to stress, personally. After all, the man had been through a lot lately, so it was understandable. Having his factories torn down and his people put into labour was bound to make him surly.

Italy knew he was making Germany's mood worse, but he couldn't help it. Women were just so beautiful. All of them were. Their soft skin, their silky hair, their luscious curves, their supple chests. What wasn't to like? Every woman deserved to be told how incredibly beautiful she was. Their sparkling charm always dazzled him, no matter their nationality.

In contrast, the male body did nothing for him. He couldn't get excited by flat chests, muscle-y torsos, facial hair and excessive testosterone.

... He'd made a couple of exceptions to this rule, of course, but not because of their appearance. He'd opened his heart to them purely because of how they'd treated him. They'd been kind and caring, treating him like a friend, instead of an annoyance, or a piece of land to claim.

It was clear to him, however - due to their negative reactions to a same-sex relationship, as well as various books and DVDs - that they were both into girls.

The first one had backed away upon realising it and he just couldn't bear the thought of the second one doing the same.

... He'd prefer the status quo to losing him any day.


	7. In Your Court

Author's note: Hey there! Another chappie for you fine folks!

... I couldn't help notice my dip in reviews, so I guess I should ask: do you like where this fic is going? If not, feel free to say so. I won't get mad, I promise.

Every review gives me an idea of how people view my work. So, every opinion is valuable! So long as they don't pointlessly flame.

If you genuinely dislike the fic, though, then that's okay.

Perhaps you don't like the history element it has now? Perhaps you're upset that we're out of Buon San Valentino territory? Please feel free to tell me!

... Phew. With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

 **Chapter Seven** **: In Your Court**

 **1949**

Less than a year after Russia had placed a blockade in Berlin, he'd removed it again, due to the Western Allies ultimately ignoring it. Germany was glad that he didn't have to receive supplies through airlift anymore, as that had only proved bothersome.

Meanwhile, tensions between America and Russia had only increased. Now, they appeared to have started a competition of who could build the more powerful weapon, though both seemed reluctant to actually use them. Well, all the better for Germany, as a nuclear war was the last thing he needed right now. He was far too busy striving to get his economy back in order.

* * *

"It's a miracle, Germany!" Italy cried happily.

"Ja..." Germany replied, still in shock, "no kidding..."

He couldn't believe it. Several years ago, his country had been in poverty. Now, thanks to a change in government and currency, his economy was steadily growing. Production was increasing. The land of Germany was beginning to prosper again.

He was tempted to call it an economic miracle.

"Oh, I'm so happy for you!" Italy tackled him into a hug.

Heat rose to Germany's face, but he tried his best to ignore it. Patting his best friend awkwardly on the shoulder, he gave a reply.

"Danke..."

* * *

Germany was sitting on his couch, enjoying a nice book. Adjusting the glasses on his face, he turned a page. Beside him, Italy was singing to himself.

"O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao~!" He paused. "That's Romano's favourite song, you know!"

"I'll bet it is..." Germany grumbled in response.

"Apparently, he was singing it all the time during World War Two!"

"And every year after, I'll bet..."

"Si! Every year, on Liberation Day!"

"Mm..."

Suddenly, the phone rang, jostling Germany from his thoughts. Placing down his book, he got up, walked over and picked up the receiver.

"Hallo?" he asked.

"Hey, brohas!" a voice answered. "Guess who's back in town!"

His eyes widened. "Prussia?"

"Prussia?!" Italy asked excitedly.

"I zought you vere at Russia's house."

"I vas," Prussia replied, "but, in ze end, I vas vay too awesome for him, so he let me go."

"I see..." Germany paused uncertainly. "Are you alright?"

"Pfft. Ja, of course, vhy _vouldn't_ I be?" Prussia paused. "I mean, sure, it completely _sucked_ at Russia's house and I never vant to see his unawesome face again... but only somevon as awesome as _me_ could handle living zere, you know?"

Germany couldn't help rolling his eyes. "Right..."

"So, now, I have mein awesome independence back!"

He could hardly believe what he was hearing. "... Congratulations."

"Danke, bro. Anyvay, I've got zings to do. Complications and shiz to sort out. So catch you later!"

"Ja, tchuss."

He put down the receiver, still staring at it in disbelief.

"So, what did Prussia want?" Italy asked.

"... He's gotten his independence back."

"Wow, really?! That's great! Magnifico! Fantastico!"

Germany allowed himself a small smile. Although he didn't yet have his _own_ independence back, it was nice to know that Prussia did.

"Ja..."

* * *

 **1955**

Italy smiled at all the faces around him, though his smile dipped slightly at the empty seat next to him.

Some time after Prussia had gotten back his independence, Italy's boss had told him to join the United Nations, an organisation that had been created at the end of World War Two. It was intended to inspire peace and unity between countries to avoid any more world wars.

Currently, it had seventy-six members, though neither Germany or Japan were among that number.

Italy really hoped the two of them would join at some point. He wouldn't be short on people to talk to, in the meantime, but it would get a bit lonely without his best friends around. Especially Germany.

... He'd just have to visit the man more often, to make up for it!

* * *

Germany looked around him. All five members of the Allies were currently standing in front of him, eagerly gesturing towards a chair. He quietly sat down on it and looked up at them all, one after the other.

"Alright..." he said, "vhy did you all call me here?"

"Si, what do you want with him?!" Italy cried from nearby.

He'd had to pry the smaller nation off his arm five times before convincing him to stand off to the side. Even now, he looked like he wanted to run over, but was somehow restraining himself.

America laughed loudly. "Well, dudes!" he said. "The three of us who aren't Russia and China have decided to give Germany back his land!"

Germany stared at him. "... Vait, vhat?" he asked.

"What?!" Italy cried.

"Yep!" America replied. "We're done with it. You can have it back now!"

"... Really?"

"Yes, really," Britain replied.

"It was nice while it lasted," France said with a wink, "but it's about time we gave it back."

Germany blinked. "Oh... vell... danke," he replied.

"Now, no more World Wars!" America said with a scrunched-up face. "Two is enough, dude!"

"Hey, I didn't even start ze first von! Zat vas Serbia's fault!"

"Same difference, bruh!"

"Aiya," China said, "I still sore you never give _me_ land."

"But you busy with civil war, da?" Russia asked with a smile.

"Dat war been going on since 1927! It no excuse!"

America laughed. "Anyway, dude," he said, ignoring China and putting his wrists on his hips, "enjoy your freedom! You earned it!"

Germany could hardly believe it. He'd actually gotten his land back.

Things were finally starting to look up.

"Yay! Germany!" Italy cried, tacking him into a side hug. "You got-a your land back! I'm so happy!"

Scheisse. Every time he thought he'd gotten used to his friend's hugs, the man would go and prove him wrong again.

As Italy nuzzled against him, his felt his face go slightly warm.

When he heard America cackling at him, he quickly frowned and turned away. Damn displays of affection...

* * *

 **1956**

Italy couldn't keep the grin off his face as Japan sat down next to him in the meeting room. It had only been a year since he'd joined the United Nations himself and now one of his old teammates had joined, too!

"Ciao, Japan~!" he said happily.

"Konnichiwa, Itary," Japan replied with a bow.

He was so happy, he was tempted to hug the man! Or maybe pat him on the shoulder.

... Maybe he'd just continue smiling instead, just to be safe.

* * *

 **1958**

Three years after getting his land back from the Allies, Germany was sitting at a long table. Around the table, France was chatting up an amused Belgium, while Luxembourg was discussing art with a stone-faced Netherlands.

Sure, there weren't many of them at the moment, but that could easily change in the future. Either way, today, history had been made. They had created the foundations for a united Europe, bound together to avoid any more World Wars.

They had created the European Union.

Turning, he observed the smaller nation sitting beside him. Italy was smiling to himself as he watched the other nations, his head bobbing from side to side. It seemed that, no matter where Germany went these days, his best friend was right by his side.

The moment Italy noticed Germany watching him, he looked surprised for a second. Recovering, he smiled.

"Hey, Germany?" he asked.

"Ja?" Germany replied.

"Do you think Japan will want to join?"

Germany huffed slightly. "Somezing tells me he probably von't..."

Italy's face fell slightly. "Aww, really?"

"Ja. I mean, he's not part of Europe, so he von't be allowed in."

"True..."

"It's not like you don't ever see him, zough."

"I know, but it would have been nice, you know? Having my two best friends with me in meetings." Italy pouted. "I mean, _you're_ not part of the _UN_ , so..."

Germany heaved a sigh. "Vell, nein, but..."

"Do you think you'll join at some point?"

"Ve'll have to see."

"Oh..."

The downtrodden expression on Italy's face was killing him. Trying to ignore it, Germany heaved a sigh. "Look, just because ve're not all together doesn't mean ve can't hang out anymore."

Italy paused a moment. "Si, I guess so..."

"Ve're all very busy, but ve're still friends."

Italy blinked, then immediately laughed to himself. "Si, I guess you're right! I'm such an idiota!"

Germany rolled his eyes. "Ja, you kind of are."

"Hey..."

"In fact, ve can go and see him later, if you vant. See vhat he's up to. Maybe you can make rice balls, or somezing, like you used to."

Italy beamed brightly. "Oh, that's a great idea!" He tilted his head, smiling like an idiot. "Grazie, Germany! You're coming, too, right?"

Not wanting to stare at that smile for too long, lest it affect him in some way, Germany turned away, back to the other four nations.

"Ja, sure..."

* * *

 **1961**

Germany solemnly looked up at the wall that was surrounding his land, splitting it in half. Only three years after he'd joined the EU, this thing had been built. On the other side lay the Eastern side of Germany, while he remained over here, on the Western side. It was lined with numerous defences, such as nail beds, anti-vehicle trenches and guard towers. Anyone who dared to cross over faced severe punishment.

It had been built some time ago, by the German Democratic Republic on the Eastern side, in an effort to keep out those on the Western side. However, it also trapped in those on the Eastern side.

Prussia was currently over there somewhere, doing who knows what, but he was unable to reach him.

He glanced to the side to see Italy with a sombre expression on his face. His best friend had always been so sympathetic to his plights. Always been there to share his pain. He was glad to still have him around, even now.

It was true that Germany's country had improved in some ways - such as economy and independence - but it was still lacking in others. Prussia and Italy had always gotten on so well, so he knew how much his best friend missed his older brother.

He, himself, was starting to miss the declarations of awesomeness, too. They were annoying, sure, but they were what made Prussia who he was...

* * *

 **1969**

... It had finally happened. Twenty-four years after the end of World War Two, it had finally happened.

"Nice work, Germany!" Italy said happily. "Now it's just-a like _my_ country!"

Only one year after East Germany had legalised it, West Germany had now legalised it, too.

"Hey, now you can date a guy, if you want!"

... Same-sex relationships.

"Uh... ja..." he replied awkwardly.

He'd tried so hard to avoid thinking about this. How every smile made something flutter in his chest. How every hug made him feel like the only one who mattered. How every compliment reminded him how badly he'd messed up twenty-six years ago...

This new legalisation was going to make things more difficult. Part of the reason he'd been avoiding it was _because_ it hadn't been legal. Because his people would have been ashamed. Disgusted.

Occasionally, he'd been tempted to break out and say something. Each time, however, he'd violently squashed the feeling back down. He'd known it was unwanted. Unwanted by his people. Unwanted by Italy.

Now that this new law had been passed, though, his people would no longer be a problem. Italy, however...

Despite how same-sex relationships had been legal in Italy since 1890, the man had never once - in all the time he'd known him - pursued a man. He'd often make offhand remarks about curves, soft skin and chest sizes, even while sharing a hot spring with him and Japan, as the three of them sometimes did. So he was clearly into women only.

... Oh well. He figured, if he ignored the annoying feeling long enough, it would eventually go away.

* * *

Italy skipped down the streets of Venice, humming happily to himself. Everything was going so well for Germany lately! His best friend had gotten his land back, his economy was booming and, now, same-sex relationships had been legalised! Sure, his brother was still trapped behind a wall, but, otherwise, everything was coming up roses for the man!

... Roses. That reminded him. Reminded him of a time when same-sex relationships _hadn't_ been legal. A time when he'd made the biggest mistake of his life without even realising it.

Germany really should have put his foot down, back then. Should have told him, right then and there, that it would never work. That he was into girls and that his country would never approve. It would have confused Italy at first, but it would have avoided the awkwardness that had followed afterwards.

The poor man had swallowed his pride, though. Tried to keep his best friend happy, despite how much it had probably hurt his dignity to do so.

That was one thing that could be said about Germany: he had a very strong will. If he felt that something needed to be done, he would do it, no matter the cost. It was one of the reasons the man was so frustrating, but also one of the reasons Italy liked him so much.

It had proven difficult expressing this ever since 'the incident', though. Each Valentine's Day would pass without a single present bought. Even the rest of the year had been risky, as he didn't want any more misunderstandings. Any more discomfort. Any more forced affection that Germany didn't mean.

... He had to admit, though, he'd been tempted a few times. Even knowing now exactly what red roses meant. How would Germany react to it _now_ , though? Now that it was legal in his country? Would it be any different? Was it really worth risking it to find out?

... No. He'd decided a long time ago that he was just going to carry on as normal. That was how Germany would want it, so that was how it had to be.


	8. House Divided

Author's note: Hey, everyone!

Whoops. Like a dummy, I messed up a little last chapter, by forgetting to add the United Nations. I knew this would happen eventually, with all the history I'm cramming in...

Fear not, though! I have gone back and added it in. As well as many dates to stop confusing both myself and my readers. Yay!

* * *

 **Chapter Eight** **: House Divided**

Germany chugged another beer amongst the hustle and bustle of his fellow Germans. All around him was traditional Bavarian clothing, laughing, singing and beer. Later, they would be opening up the amusement park, but he was never one for rides. Neither was his companion.

Beside him sat Italy, who was pushing around his beer in mild distaste. He knew the smaller nation preferred wine, but this option was much more traditional. As for the rides, he knew Italy wouldn't want to go on those, as they were often much too scary for him. Germany wasn't complaining.

Finishing his pint glass, he called over another beer waitress, who was already carrying several mugs. Trying his best to ignore how tightly the dirndl dress fit her frame, he ordered another round.

As she smiled in response and walked away, he turned back to Italy. The smaller nation was sipping his beer and cringing. Apparently, he hadn't noticed that beer waitress, unlike the previous three.

... Normally, Oktoberfest would be the one time that Germany would let his hair down. The one time where he would cut loose and actually enjoy himself. He hadn't done that for a long time, though, for multiple reasons.

With the state his country had been in for so long, he hadn't felt like he _should_ be splashing out on beer and enjoying himself. It would have been very irresponsible. For another, he would always enjoy this holiday with his brother, who would drink at the same pace as him and get just as drunk. However, Prussia was still currently trapped behind the Berlin Wall, so he had less motivation to celebrate without him.

... The other reason was that Italy was joining him instead now, mainly to keep him company. The last thing he wanted to do was get drunk in front of _him_. He shuddered as he recalled the last time that had happened, back in World War Two times, when he'd complained for two hours about how unrealistic the graphics and plotline had been in his latest 18-rated DVD.

He'd been horribly embarrassed the following day.

* * *

 **1973**

"Sweet!" Italy said happily. "You finally joined!"

"Ja, ja..." Germany replied as he sat down next to his best friend.

"Konnichiwa," Japan said with a bow nearby.

"Guten tag."

Glancing around him, Germany could see a myriad of other nations around the large table, all chatting loudly and animatedly. Finally, eighteen years after Italy had joined the UN, _he_ had now joined, too.

Once upon a time, Prussia might have stood in for the Eastern side of Germany. Since his dissolution and being trapped behind the Berlin Wall, however, Germany himself had to fill in for both sides.

... He hoped to god this group wouldn't be as chaotic and uncontrollable as the EU...

* * *

 **1975**

"Merci beaucoup for coming, everyone," France said, brandishing a rose and placing it to his face. "Today, yet again, we shall make 'istory."

Italy smiled as he looked around the long table. Around him sat Germany, Japan, America, Britain and, of course, France. Together, they'd formed the Group of Six, or G6. A party dedicated to discussing - and hopefully solving - global issues.

... Part of him hoped it wouldn't end up like the European Union or the United Nations. In both groups, nothing ever got done, because the countries were always too busy fighting and/or ignoring one another to pay attention.

He, personally, didn't care if the meetings went to pot, but something he _did_ care about was Germany's steadily-deepening stress lines...

* * *

 **1976**

One year after the formation of the G6, a new member was said to be joining, making it the G7. What had France said his name was again? Italy couldn't remember.

All throughout the meeting, he kept looking around for him, but the man never seemed to show his face. How rude. Not to mention irresponsible! The entire time, he couldn't help but notice the increasing frown lines on Germany's face. These constant meetings were starting to get to him, it seemed. Especially with the missing member.

As the meeting drew to a close, Italy packed his papers into his briefcase and hurried after Germany, hoping to maybe get some ice cream with his best friend. As he was deciding which flavour he'd buy, he suddenly crashed into something.

"Argh, sorry!" he cried. "Please don't-a hurt me!" He paused as he realised he didn't recognise this man. When had _he_ come in?

"Oh, don't worry aboot it," the man replied in a very quiet voice. "Happens all the time, eh?"

"Uh... right! Sure..." Italy paused awkwardly, not sure what else to say. He really didn't remember the door opening at any point during the meeting. "Well, bye!" He hurried out the door.

"Bye."

* * *

 **1989**

Germany stared in disbelief at what he was seeing. He couldn't believe it had finally happened. The Berlin Wall, the blockade that had separated West Germany from East Germany for twenty-eight years, had been knocked down. Now his people were free to intermingle again.

A great sense of relief came over him. His country was whole again.

Beside him, he felt his arm being grabbed in a warm embrace. Heat rose to his cheeks, but he ignored it as he smiled sideways at Italy. His best friend beamed back at him as the wind whistled through his reddish-brown locks.

"Bet it feels good, huh?" Italy asked. "Really liberating!"

"Ja," Germany replied, before giving him an exasperated glance, "zough you make it sound like I just installed a nudist beach..."

"Ooh, that's a great idea!"

"Hey, brohas!" a voice suddenly called out. They turned to see a figure approaching. One they hadn't seen in a very long time. "Ze awesome me is back in town! Again!"

Letting go of Germany's arm, Italy bounced over to him. "Prussia~!" He hugged him enthusiastically.

Prussia grinned. "Aww, you're still as cute as ever!" He gave Italy a noogie. The smaller nation whined in response.

Germany looked his brother over. The man, it seemed, had fallen on hard times. His hair and clothes were a mess and his skin was rather dirty. It made sense, however. Whilst West Germany had been prospering over the years, word had spread that the opposite had been true for East Germany. They were dirt poor.

He felt sorry for Prussia, but the man was a strong nation. A stubborn one, too. He'd find a way to bounce back from this, somehow.

As his brother continued to noogie Italy, Germany allowed himself a small smile. "It's good to have you back, bruder," he said.

Prussia turned his toothy grin towards him. "Good to _be_ back, bro!"

* * *

 **1990**

A year after the fall of the Berlin Wall, something else surprising happened. The sectors of West Germany and East Germany had decided to become one. This meant two things. Firstly, Prussia would become an ex-nation, instead passing his personification over to Germany.

Secondly, Prussia would be moving in with him.

"Zis is mein _awesome_ space!" Prussia said, planting down several bean bag chairs. "It is vhere I vill be awesome!" He paused. "Vell, I'll be awesome _everyvhere_ , but especially here!"

Germany rubbed the bridge of his nose. His brother was going to drive him up the wall. He was already stressed enough lately, as it was, with the constant failings of the EU, the UN _and_ the G7. He didn't need any extra hassle...

* * *

"Ahhhh!" Prussia said in satisfaction, placing his empty pint glass on the table. Around him was the merrymaking of their fellow Germans. "I've missed zis! Munich is by far ze best place for Oktoberfest. I couldn't access it behind zat stupid vall!"

"Ja, zat must have been harsh," Germany replied.

"Ciao, bella~" Italy said, waving to a passing beer waitress.

Prussia suddenly stood up, dramatically planting his foot on the chair. "To make up for it, I vill drink all ze beer and go on all ze rides!" he cried.

Germany gave him an exasperated look. He sighed. "Fine," he replied, "just don't expect me to join you."

"Killjoy. Zen I'll just have to take Italy, instead!"

"Ciao, bel-" Italy started, before whipping his head around. "Wait, what?!"

"Nein!" Germany replied angrily. "You von't be dragging _him_ on zem, eizer!"

Pouting, Prussia sat back down. "Urgh, you're boz such pussies." He called over another beer waitress.

Germany sighed again, heavier this time.

* * *

Italy watched the ride spin around and around, Prussia's screams of joy quite audible from inside. He smiled tipsily. Though he may not like fast rides himself, he was always happy to see other people enjoying them.

Sure, he liked to drive fast in his car, but that was different. He was in control there. He was telling the car when to move and when to stop. It didn't go up and down like a rollercoaster, or spin in dizzying circles like the ride Prussia was on.

Speaking of Prussia, the man had clearly had way too many beers. Celebrating his return to Munich, he'd gone a bit wild and ordered a lot of rounds. He was currently whooping and hollering. Hopefully, he wouldn't throw up.

Italy really disliked the taste of beer, so he'd gone easy. In his expert opinion, wine was much tastier, but, to stay in the spirit of the holiday, he'd had a few rounds.

Since Germany drank at the same pace as his brother, however, he was also rather drunk.

The man was currently leaning on the wall, a few strands of hair falling over his face and a lopsided grin on his mouth as he watched the ride spin around.

... It wasn't often Italy got to see Germany like this. He was usually so high-strung about everything. His hair, for example, would never have been allowed to hang loose if he'd been sober. Even the smiling was unusual.

It made him uncomfortably attractive.

"So, Germany!" he said. "Enjoying the fair?"

"Ja..." Germany slurred in response. He turned around, his lopsided grin now directed at Italy. Something warm danced in the smaller nation's chest, but he tried to ignore it. "Es ist gut..."

"There was a good turnout this year!" Italy giggled. "If you don't-a hurry, though, they might-a run out of bratwurst hot dogs!"

Germany playfully rolled his eyes. "Ja, ja..."

The dancing in Italy's chest grew stronger at the unfamiliar sight. He shook it off.

"What about candy? Can we get some of those gingerbread things?"

Germany paused a long moment, his face suddenly unreadable.

Italy tilted his head. "Germany?"

"Nein... zose are for lovers..."

"Oh, is that right?"

Feeling slightly uncomfortable, yet still rather tipsy, Italy giggled.

"Ja... and ve're not lovers..."

"Nope, we're not."

"You're still mein best friend, zough... You'll... alvays be..."

The awkwardness was growing, but the beer made Italy giggle again. "My, aren't _you_ getting affectionate!"

"Ja..."

There was a pause as Germany slid across the wall, moving slightly closer. As his shoulder bumped against Italy's, the grin on the smaller nation's face stretched itself wider. His heart also seemed to beating faster in his chest.

"Can you believe it's been fifty-one years since we made-a that pact? Time flies, huh?"

"Ja..."

"So much has happened since then!"

"Ja, it has..."

"And-"

"Heyyyy, brohas...!" a voice called out. Italy looked to the side to see Prussia wobbling over to them. "Ze awesome me... requires some awesome food, because _I am awesome_...!"

"Ja, ja..." Germany replied, sounding disgruntled.

"Si," Italy replied, slightly put-out, but happy, nonetheless. "Food sounds good."

* * *

"And every time _I_... ze _awesome Prussia_..." Prussia slurred, shoving another pretzel into his mouth, "tried to climb zat _stupid_ vall... zey'd shoot. Bang! And I'd fall _straight_ back down again!" He leaned backwards in his chair. "So unawesome..."

"Ha," Italy said with a smile, "that sounded rough."

"Ja...! And ze vorst part...?" He paused. "Vell, no, zat _vas_ ze vorst part..." He paused again, then smirked to himself. "Heh... vorst..."

"All zat just to see _me_...?" Germany asked with a light smirk of his own. "I'm flattered..."

"Ja, vell... I'm just _so_ awesome... zat I'd get freaking shot just to see mein little bro..."

"How cute~" Italy said.

"Ja, ja, I know... Pure awesomeness at its _freaking finest_...!"

Germany chuckled. "Does your ego get bigger vhen you're drunk...?" he asked.

"Sure looks like it!" Italy added.

"Ha...!" Prussia replied. "You guys know you love me really..." He suddenly leaned into Italy, nuzzling him. "You can't get enough of me, ja...?"

Germany frowned. "Oi..." he said, "stop zat..."

"Aww, but he's so cute, zough..."

"Ja, but zat's no excuse..." Germany pulled Italy's chair closer to himself.

"Hey, don't keep your boyfriend all to yourself...!" Prussia pulled Italy's chair back where it was.

"Dummkopf...!" Germany pulled Italy's chair back again. "He's not mein boyfriend..."

"Oh, does zat mean _I_ can have him...?"

"Nein...!"

"Pfft... Fine, vhatever..." Prussia suddenly jumped onto his chair. "So, who else vants a piece of ze awesome Prussia...?! Zere's plenty for everyvon...! Don't be shy...!"

"You dummkopf..."

"He's fresh out of East Germany and ready to rumble...!" Suddenly grinning, he jumped back off his chair and ran elsewhere. "You...! You look like awesome people...! Zough novhere near as awesome as me...!"

Germany shook his head. "I svear..." After a pause, he chuckled. "Still ze same Prussia, even vhen he's drunk..." He turned to look at Italy, but halted when he noticed the smaller nation smiling goofily at him. "Vhat...?"

"Hee~!" Italy replied. "You called me cute~!"

"... Oh... ja... I did..."

"Did you mean that~?"

"Ja... I did..."

"Oh, grazie!" Italy giggled. He paused a moment, then looked like something had occurred to him. "Oh! Hey!" He opened his eyes with no warning. "Am I cuter _now_?"

Germany stared at him. It was so rare that Italy ever opened his eyes. It wasn't the first time he'd seen them open, but good god... That shining amber colour that seemed to reflect all light around it, making his smile glow like the goddamn sun...

"Ja... Ja, I'd say so..."

"Oh, really?"

"Ja..."

He hated it. Oh god, he hated it.

He hated how it was so goddamn cute. Once, he'd thought of a word to describe it, but it was escaping him right now. All he could focus on was how incredibly cute it was.

He really hated it.

He hated how staring at that sweet, innocent face was making something bubble up inside him. Making his chest hurt in his effort to keep it inside. It was threatening to burst out and spill everywhere...

As Italy tilted his head quizzically in that adorable manner he normally did, Germany was having trouble containing himself.

He opened his mouth, ready to say something.

"Bah...!" Prussia suddenly said behind him. Germany jumped in surprise. "Zey don't know what truly awesome is...! Come on, little bro... I vanna go on more rides..."

Feeling rather disgruntled, yet again, Germany rolled his eyes. "Ja, ja..."

* * *

As sunlight peeked through the windows, Germany blinked awake. Thankfully, because he'd drunken plenty of water before bed, his hangover was light.

Well, last night had certainly been interesting. He hadn't drunken that much beer in a long time. Then again, he _had_ been celebrating Prussia's return. His brother had piled on the drinks, so, to match him, so had he.

He also remembered eating a lot of food. Mainly meat products and pretzels. Italy had particularly seemed to enjoy trying the pork shank.

He paused, his eyes widening. Oh god. Italy. Things might have gone slightly south if Prussia hadn't been around. Who knows what he might have said. Especially after so many emotions had threatened to come loose.

He'd just have to keep a tighter lid on his feelings.

After a moment, though, he suddenly remembered that Oktoberfest was a sixteen-day festival. Not only that, but Prussia would most likely want to go every day this week and Italy would want to come, too. He groaned and closed his eyes.

* * *

Italy yawned as he stretched awake. Once he lay back down to relax, he smiled sleepily to himself. Last night had been fun. He'd gotten to eat lots of yummy food, watch Prussia go on lots of fast, scary rides and hang out with Germany.

He paused a moment. Germany. Now that he thought about it, Germany had stared at him at one point. At the time, he'd not thought about it much - instead revelling in the positive attention his best friend had been giving him - but what had that been about?

Well, he'd seemed a lot more affectionate than usual, so maybe it had been something to do with that? Germany _had_ called him cute, after all, and that just wasn't a Germany thing to do.

He'd looked like he'd wanted to say something, too.

Italy entertained himself for a moment, pretending it would have been a confession if Prussia hadn't interrupted. He doubted it, though. Germany had probably been about to tell him to close his eyes, because it had been creeping him out.

Heh. Speaking of confessions, when was the last time one nation had confessed to another? He had no idea, honestly. He knew that Austria had been married to Hungary at one point and it seemed they were still fairly close, but everyone else, though? He severely doubted it.

Countries tended not to enter relationships for fear of... complications. Mostly political ones, but also romantic ones. Even France was afraid to get too close.

After all, nations lived for a very, very long time.

Shaking his head, he decided not to think on the matter anymore. Instead, he wanted to roll over and go back to sleep.


	9. Whole Nine Yards

Author's note: Hey, peeps!

Been a while, hasn't it? That's cuz I was busy working on my Pokémon fics instead, but that's neither here nor there.

... I had to take a bit of a liberty with this chapter, since I've no idea where this particular event takes place, despite all the research I've been doing. I really hope I didn't get it wrong... If I did, feel free to correct me and I'll... find a way around it.

Either way, hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

 **Chapter Nine** **: Whole Nine Yards**

 **1991**

Finally, after forty-four years, the Cold War was over. America and Russia had decided to put aside their differences and end their glaring contest. End their bickering. End their rivalry. Maybe, now, they'd actually learn to cooperate.

... Germany doubted the two countries would actually become friends after this, but at least now there was no chance of them nuking one another.

For that, he was thankful. The world certainly didn't need _that_ on its plate...

* * *

Sitting comfortably on the couch, Germany quietly read his book, Legends of the Greek Gods. On the floor nearby, a giggling Italy continued to drag his cat toy across the carpet.

Germany could hear the small thumps of Pookie as she continually pounced at the cat toy. Each time Italy managed to pull it out of the way, his giggles would get louder.

"... Damn it, zis is just too cute!" Prussia exclaimed, also on the carpet.

Germany looked up from his book, glasses sliding down his nose slightly. "It's just a cat," he replied.

"It's not just a cat, Germany!" Italy said looking up at him with a bright smile. "It's Pookie!"

"Ja. A cat." He pushed his glasses back up his nose.

Italy pouted. "Hmph. You'll never know the joys of having a pet." He paused. "You grouch..."

Germany lowered his eyelids at him. "Zat cat's not even yours."

Italy protectively grabbed Pookie in his arms. The cat didn't protest. "Well, no, but she might as well be!"

Germany sighed. After a moment, a thought occurred to him. "Just how long has zat zing been around, anyvay?"

"Oh, I dunno. Since around..." He gave it some thought. "Let's see... it-a was before the Pact of Steel, so about... 1939? Ish?"

Prussia's eyes widened. "Vhat?" he asked in intrigue. "Really?"

Italy smiled. "Si!"

"Hmm..." Germany said. "Shouldn't she have died by now?"

"Well, you'd think so!" Italy paused. "But nope!"

"Hmm. Zen again, she does hang around you a lot..."

"Hey, yeah!" Prussia agreed. "Maybe your life force, or vitality, or vhatever is rubbing off on her!"

Italy gave a light gasp. "Yeah, maybe!"

"Hmph," Germany said.

"Zat settles it," Prussia said. He jumped to his feet, planting one boot on the coffee table.

Germany frowned up at him. "Oi. Only coffee on ze coffee table."

"Ve're getting a dog!"

"... Excuse me?"

"A dog. Zey're awesome. Ve're getting von."

"You're getting a dog?!" Italy asked excitedly.

"Nein!" Germany replied. "Und get off ze coffee table!"

"I am awesome und so is mein boot!" Prussia replied. "Ve're getting a dog. End of story."

"Nein! You can barely feed _yourself_ in a morning, never mind a dog!"

"Aww, but don't you vant a dog, bro?"

Germany hesitated.

Prussia's grin grew wider, showing off his teeth. "See? I knew you'd see it _mein_ awesome vay! Ve're getting a dog."

Germany hesitated again. "... But vhat about...?"

Italy tilted his head. "Hmm?" he asked. "What's the matter?"

Germany sighed. "I vouldn't vant to get von if I'm only going to outlive it..."

Italy beamed. "Oh, is that-a what you're worrying about? Well, no worries! Japan's had his dog, Pochi, for a really, really long time! Centuries, even!" He looked down at the cat still in his arms. "And Pookie here's not even mine, but she's still kicking! Right, Pookie?"

"Meow!" the cat replied.

Italy looked back up at him. "So, si! I say get a dog!"

Germany stared at his best friend for a long moment. Eventually, he heaved another sigh. "I suppose you're right..." He glanced away. "I... guess it _vould_ be nice having a dog..."

"Damn straight it vould!" Prussia replied.

"Yay!" Italy said. "Doggie!" He paused. "Though I think cats are better."

"Pfft! No vay! Dogs are more awesome!" Prussia pointed a finger dramatically. "An awesome pet for ze awesome Prussia!"

Germany sighed again.

* * *

The following day, the three of them had arrived at the shelter, Italy thankfully not bringing Pookie with him. That would have probably been disastrous.

The second the trio had stepped through the front door, Italy and Prussia had excitedly bolted off in their own separate directions, both squealing like little children. Wanting to view the dogs at his own leisure, Germany slowly walked along, carefully scanning each pen one at a time. A Bavarian mountain hound, a schnauzer, a great dane, a Doberman pinscher, a kromfohrlander... There was so much choice.

Suddenly, he heard loud barking. It was followed by a high-pitched scream of terror. Looking up, he saw Italy quickly scrambling away from one of the pens. Sighing, he walked over.

When he approached, Italy looked up at him, tears in his eyes. "This one's scaryyyy..." he said.

Germany turned to look at the dog in question, which was still barking, its paws up on the pen door. A rottweiler.

He threw it his most intense glare through the wire frame door. Almost immediately, it retreated with a whimper, flattening its body against the floor.

He relaxed his glare.

"Oh, grazie!" Italy said. "Maybe you could scare away Jehovah's Witnesses next!"

Germany let out a breath. "Nein. Only ze devil could scare _zem_ avay."

"... So, we should invite Russia over then?" Italy bonked the side of his head on Germany's arm a few times. "... Actually, no, don't do that."

A tiny smirk worked its way onto Germany's mouth.

* * *

Finally. He'd found it.

Germany knew, the second he laid eyes on this German shepherd, that he wanted it. It was big and fluffy. Brown and cream. Strong and, honestly, quite adorable. Especially with the way it was nuzzling against the wire frame door. Yes. He wanted it.

He took a quick look at the dog's name and determined it was called Aster.

Hmm. Aster. That was a flower, wasn't it?

"Bro! Bro!" Prussia cried out, rushing over. "I have found ze most awesome dog for us to purchase!"

"Oh, danke," he replied, "but I've already-"

Prussia grabbed his arm and dragged him away from Aster. "Zis vay, bro! Oh, you'll love him! He's almost as awesome as me!"

"H-Hey!"

Relenting, he decided that he'd come back to Aster later. For now, he'd follow his brother's lead, if only to humour him.

Eventually, Prussia stopped walking and let go. "Vell, here he is, bro! Isn't he awesome?"

Germany looked down at the pen. Inside was a brown dachshund. It was looking up at him with the most pleading face. The cutest puppy dog eyes.

... Oh no.

"His name is Blackie! Not ze awesome name _I_ vould have given him... especially since he's not even black... but his cute face could melt even _your_ steely heart! So, let's get him und go, already!"

"Uh... vell..."

"Germany! Hey, Germany!" Italy cried, rushing over. "I found-a you the best dog! He's so fluffy and cute! Come on, you need to come and see him!"

"Ha!" Prussia replied. "He doesn't need to, because ve've _already_ found ze perfect dog!"

"Oh, please! Just-a give him a quick look-see! You'll love him, I promise!"

Germany heaved a sigh. "Alright, fine..." he replied.

Italy beamed. "Oh, grande!" He ran off. "He's over this wayyyy!"

The two Germans followed him, until they came across the pen he was pointing at. Germany looked down. A hovawart. Golden in colour, with a very dopey expression on its face. It kind of reminded him of Italy, actually.

... Scheisse.

"Hmm..." Prussia said. He quickly looked at the dog's name. "Berlitz, huh?" He paused a long moment. "... I still zink ve should get Blackie."

"Noooo," Italy said, "get Berlitz!"

"Nein! Blackie is vay more awesome!"

"But Berlitz is so cute!"

"Blackie's cuter!"

"No, Berlitz is!"

Germany heaved a sigh.

* * *

As the three of them walked away from the shelter, Germany couldn't help but feel pleased with himself. It felt strange to be holding onto a lead as he walked - especially when it kept trying to pull away from him - but it was oddly satisfying.

Honestly, he'd always wanted a dog, but had never gotten one. Either because he'd been too busy fighting in wars, rebuilding his economy _after_ wars, or trying his damnedest to keep the UN, the EU _and_ the G7 under control.

That and the fact that he didn't want to easily outlive his pet.

As Aster tugged on the lead again, he gave it a slight tug backwards to keep the German shepherd calm.

"Hey!" Italy said happily. "Maybe now you'll stop being such a grouch, Germany!" The lead he was holding yanked him forwards, almost unbalancing him.

"Ja," Prussia agreed. "Zat schtick up his arsch vas due for a shifting! Und it's all zanks to mein awesome idea!" He pulled back on his own lead.

"Hmph," Germany replied. Grouch, indeed...

Straightening himself out, Italy chuckled. "Seriously, though... you've been-a really stressed lately, so I hope-a this helps."

"Hmph. Vell, danke."

"... Though I don't-a know why you needed to adopt all _three_ dogs..." Italy looked between Aster, Blackie and Berlitz, then back up at Germany. He beamed. "You must-a really be growing soft~!"

Feeling warmth creep up his face, Germany turned away. "... Hmph."

* * *

Germany had to admit, life was certainly different now that he had three dogs. They were so dependant, constantly clambering over one another to get his attention. Constantly howling whenever they were hungry. Or needing the toilet. Or bored.

He looked after them as best he could and it was oddly rewarding. Feeding them, exercising them, playing with them. It often helped to take his mind off work.

Prussia had been surprisingly helpful with all three of them. He'd kind of expected his brother to leave it all to him, but he was often keen to pitch in, usually taking half the workload.

... He'd been so helpful, in fact, that, one time, they'd accidentally fed the dogs twice - once per person - because of a lack of communication. So that was a new rule. No feeding before asking first.

... All in all, though, life was pretty good.

* * *

Italy smiled as he watched Germany pet his dogs. It wasn't often at all that he got to see this side of his best friend. The soft, gentle side.

As Aster leaned into Germany, the man gave the tiniest of smiles and stroked him behind the ear. The German shepherd's tail wagged happily.

Not long after, his two other dogs wandered over, also nudging Germany. Probably jealous at how much attention Aster was getting. Still smiling slightly, the man rolled his eyes and stroked them, too.

Wow. Maybe Italy was right in thinking they'd help him relax! Heaven knew he certainly needed it. He was already looking pretty relaxed, so it must be working!

... If he was honest, it was rather hard not to focus on how cute the scene looked - with this hulking beast of a man gently stroking three happy dogs - but he was trying his best...

* * *

There was much barking. Much hissing and squealing. Plenty of crashing and smashing as footsteps thundered throughout the house. Prussia screamed as he was knocked off his feet.

After Germany finally got his dogs under control, he turned around and glared down at Italy.

"Aheh..." Italy said sheepishly. "I, uh... guess I shouldn't-a bring Pookie over anymore, huh?"

He relaxed his glare slightly. "... Nein."

"Ow, mein awesome back..." Prussia grumbled from the floor.

Sighing, Germany reached down and plucked the cat from Italy's arms, intending to take her outside. She immediately hissed and squealed again, so he quickly put her back. She calmed a second later, as though nothing had happened.

He stared at the demonic creature. "... Uh... maybe _you_ should take care of it."

"Huh?" Italy asked. He smiled. "Well, okay~" As he was walking out, he released one arm and, with a single finger, lightly bopped the cat on the head. "Naughty Pookie. Being mean to Germany like that..."

"Meow," Pookie replied.

"Now, don't do that again, okay? Or- Huh?"

"Meow."

He suddenly started screaming. "No, not the finger! No! Stop the licking! Argh! That huuuurts! Germany, her spiky tongue huuuurts!"

Germany heaved a sigh, shaking his head in exasperation. It seemed his best friend needed saving again.

Why he kept that cat around, when he could barely handle her licks, was beyond him.

Hurrying over, he gave the cat a light bop on her head. She ceased her licking, but, thankfully, didn't hiss at him.

... Good. He really hadn't wanted to resort to pulling her away again.

Italy smiled at him. "Oh, grazie."

Germany gave a light sigh. "No problem..."


	10. Out of the Bag

Author's notes: Guten tag, sirs and madams!

If I could have a moment of your time, I'd like to ask a few question regarding this fic. What were your favourite bits? Which bits were cute, funny or even just interesting? Do you like my storyline and character interpretations?

Or perhaps there's some things you think I could improve on?

I'd love to hear your opinions. Just don't straight up tell me my fic sucks and all will be good. XD If you must criticise something (which is A-okay!), then be sure to sandwich it in-between positive comments! Then I know that you at least like something in the fic.

Reviews help motivate me to continue doing what I enjoy. Writing fanfiction for you lovely people! So, don't be afraid to drop me a line!

Maybe you could even convince me to look at your stuff in return.

Phew, okay. Now that that's out of the way, please enjoy the chapter!

* * *

 **Chapter Ten** **: Out of the Bag**

Germany put down his pen and sighed. Using his other hand, he reached underneath his glasses and irritably rubbed the bridge of his nose.

It had been non-stop paperwork lately. Check this, sign that, make sure these are in order. It was growing very, very tiresome. He really needed a break, lest he be like Japan and succumb to what the man called 'karoshi'. Death by overworking.

Suddenly, a pair of hands slammed onto his desk. He glared up at his brother.

"Hey, bro!" Prussia said with a toothy grin. "Since you've been vorking so awesomely hard, I vill be a super extra awesome brozer and valk ze dogs."

Germany's eyes widened in surprise. That was awfully thoughtful of his brother.

"Oh," he replied. "Danke." He stretched out his aching arms.

Prussia pulled his hands away, resting his knuckles on his hips. His toothy grin widened. "Of course, you'll have to revard me for mein awesomeness!"

Germany paused mid-stretch, glaring up at him. "... I should have figured you vouldn't do it for free." He put his arms on the desk. "Alright, vhat do you vant?"

"I demand an awesome cake for mein awesome contribution!"

"... A cake."

"Ja! An awesome cake!"

Germany kept up his glare for a long moment. Prussia wasn't fazed.

Giving up, he heaved a sigh. "Alright, fine..."

Prussia flung his arms in the air. "Hurra!" He lowered them immediately. "And make sure it's bundt cake! Zat's mein awesome favourite!"

"Ja, ja... bundt cake, got it..." He glared up at him. "Zough no eating it until after dinner zis time."

Prussia waved a hand dismissively. "Ja, ja, vhatever, sure..." His grin widened. "And hey, if you're baking, it's ze perfect chance to try out zat present I got you, huh?" He burst into loud cackles.

Germany's glare intensified.

Still unfazed, Prussia gave a wave and walked towards the office door. "Later, bro! I expect ze most awesome of cakes vhen I return!" He left the room. "... I am awesome!"

Heaving another sigh, Germany went back to rubbing the bridge of his nose.

* * *

Germany glared hatefully down at Prussia's 'present'.

A while ago, his green apron - that he'd had for a long time, mind - had begun to fall apart at the seams. He'd patched it up a few times already - which would have pleased that cheapskate Austria, he was sure - but, eventually, he'd decided that it was time to buy a new one.

He'd been busy, however, so had made a small request to Prussia to take his money, go to the store and buy one for him.

His brother had returned with this.

He heaved a sigh. Well, as long as nobody saw him wearing the stupid thing, then he supposed it could be worse...

* * *

Germany had to admit, there was something cathartic about baking cakes. Carefully measuring out ingredients, whisking them together, watching the mixture rise in the oven, serving the finished product to an eager audience.

It gave him a sense of pride.

Plus, it was a relaxing change from all the paperwork, that was for certain. Here, he didn't have to worry about politics or global warming. Just the sweet aroma of fruit and pastry as it wafted about the kitchen.

He'd baked bundt cake enough times that he knew the recipe off by heart, though that didn't stop him from still checking it in a cookbook at every step. One could never be too careful, after all.

As he cracked open another eggshell, delicately pouring its contents into a bowl, he felt a smile on his face. Free from the stresses of work, Prussia and the dogs, he could finally afford to unwind a bit. The house was empty and he had no worries right now.

Life was good.

* * *

Italy smiled to himself. He'd been really bored today - and Romano was being extra grumpy, which never helped - so he'd figured he'd drop in on Germany for a surprise visit.

He tried to withhold his giggles as he quietly snuck inside the house. Years of practice - especially in Germany's house - had made him a master of it. Normally, he'd only do it at night to sneak into Germany's bed, but today he felt extra impish, for some reason. Probably due to his immense boredom back at home.

... Not that Germany would be here right now, of course. He knew that. The man worked like clockwork and, ever since getting his dogs, he'd walked them at the same time every day, like the diligent pet owner he was.

When he came home later, though, he'd have a surprise in the form of a hug from his best friend forever!

He paused as he heard sounds coming from the kitchen. Huh. So somebody was home? Was it Prussia? Or perhaps Germany?

Smiling deviously, he crept towards the kitchen.

Once he got close enough, though, a different sound began to drift down the hallway. Was that... humming? Who the heck was humming? Was it Prussia? He continued creeping along until, finally, he reached the doorway. He quietly peeked inside.

His eyes shot open at what he saw.

... Now, he was no stranger to baking, himself. He baked cakes all the time. Pandoro, panettone, tiramisu. He'd even had some of Germany's cakes before. Like his torte, his gateau and his streuselcake. This, however...

Germany was right here, in his kitchen, wearing what was possibly the frilliest apron Italy had ever seen. It was pale pink with a ribbon tied around it, and the frills on the shoulders stuck out so much that it almost looked like an Elizabethan dress from England.

... But that wasn't even the weirdest part.

He was humming. Not his usual brand of heavy metal music that Italy wasn't very fond of, though. This was... he wasn't even sure. It was very upbeat, very high-pitched and, quite frankly, really girly.

... What the hell?

Not only that, but this macho man was moving around the kitchen with such light steps, almost floating. Almost... dancing?

When Germany turned sideways slightly to whisk whatever mixture was in his bowl, Italy saw it. A smile. An honest-to-goodness smile. He hadn't seen one of those on the man in a very, very long time. Not since the day Italy had declared them to be friends.

... It was only then that he realised he'd been staring.

Suddenly, Germany turned around, smile still in place, until they locked eyes. The smile immediately dropped, his eyes widened and the whisk fell with a clatter into the bowl.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

Some strange noises were escaping Germany's throat as his face went progressively redder.

Italy honestly couldn't decide if what he'd seen was endearing, terrifying or both.

... Yeah, both. He'd go with both.

"Vha..." Germany stammered. He scowled, his face the colour of a tomato. "Vhat are you doing here, you dummkopf?!"

Italy jumped, squeaking in fright. "Uh, well, uh... I just-a came over to visit and, uh..." He paused to stare at the frilly apron again. "... Who are you and what have you done with Germany?!"

Germany huffed a few times. Putting down the bowl and whisk, he ripped off his apron and threw it to one side. He closed his eyes, neglecting to say anything.

"... Germany?"

There was another pause.

Heaving a sigh, Germany turned to look at him. "... Vhat do you vant, Italy?"

"Uh... well, just to say 'hi' really, but, um..."

Sighing again, Germany turned away and ran a hand through his hair. "... Ja... hallo..."

"... Ciao..."

There was more awkward silence.

"... So, uh..." Italy continued, "... what-a the heck was that all about?"

Sighing yet again, Germany ran the hand down his face. "... I vas just baking a cake."

"... Si, while humming and dancing."

Germany flinched. Still not looking at him, he leaned one hand on the counter. "... I got a little carried avay."

"... 'A little', he says..."

He was sure it was physically impossible for his friend's face to get any redder.

"... And what's-a with the frilly apron?"

Germany closed his eyes again. "Zat vas from Prussia."

"... Oh."

After a long moment, something bubbled up inside Italy's chest. It rose all the way up his throat and caused his lips to tremble in a vain attempt to keep it in inside.

He failed and exploded in laughter.

Germany turned indignantly to face him. "Vh-Vhat?"

"Oh mio dio... Scusa, I just... You in a frilly apron while humming and dancing and-"

"I vas not dancing!"

Italy laughed harder. "Si, you were! Kind of!" He took deep breaths. "It was... weird and strange and it honestly kind of freaked-a me out."

Germany glanced away.

"... But, at-a the same time... well, it's certainly a side of you I've never seen before! Who knew you could-a be so girly?"

"I'm not girly!"

"And so in touch-a with your feminine side?"

"I don't have a feminine side!"

"Si, you do! And you just-a freaking proved it!"

Germany closed his eyes again. "... C-Can ve just forget zis ever happened?"

Italy pulled a thinking pose. "Mmmmm..." He smiled. "How about 'no'?"

Germany opened his eyes and glared at him. "Vh-Vhat?! Vhy?!"

"Because..." It had been hilarious? Adorable? Weird and otherworldly, yet somehow made his heart go all aflutter? "... I got to see a different side of you!" He paused a long moment. Then he laughed. "It-a was honestly kind of cute~"

Had Germany's face gotten even redder? It was hard to tell anymore.

"C... Cute?"

"Si! And, believe me, I didn't-a think it was possible for you to be cute!"

Germany turned to look at him sideways. "Vh-Vhat's zat supposed to mean?"

Italy hummed in amusement. "Well, grazie for showing-a me that, even if you didn't-a mean to! I should-a repay you somehow."

"... Oh, ja?"

"Ja! I mean, si! Hmm..." He glanced around. "Well, I'd offer to help-a with the cake, but I've no idea how to make a German cake..." He thought about it some more. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. "Oh, I know! You showed-a me a secret of yours-"

"Vell, it-"

"So I should show you one of mine!"

"... Oh?"

"Si! Come over to my house when you're done and I'll show you something you never expected!"

"Uh... sure..."

Italy headed towards the door, but paused as he remembered something. "Oh, right." He hurried over to Germany and gave him a quick hug. "That-a was meant for you before my brain kind of broke." Beaming, he let go and headed out. "Well, I'll see you later! Ciao!"

"... Ja... tschuss..."

* * *

Eventually, Germany had finished the bundt cake. Placing the finished product in the fridge, he quickly scribbled down a note for Prussia, saying that he'd gone out, but he'd made his cake and left it to cool. It also contained a friendly reminder not to eat it before dinner, or else he'd suplex him to death. Again.

With that out of the way, he headed out the front door.

... Even now, as he made his way down the street, he still couldn't believe what had happened. Of all the times for Italy to sneak into his house, it had to be when his guard had been all the way down.

Oh god, he'd remembered it again. He cringed.

Normally, he'd never allow it to get so low. He had an image to maintain, after all. The strong, stoic country that showed no weakness. So why had he given in today?

Of all the people to see it, too. Why Italy?! Anyone else, he could have probably handled. Prussia would have just laughed, Japan wouldn't have said anything and anyone else? Well, nobody else ever visited, so they likely wouldn't have been a problem. Plus, it wasn't World War Two. They weren't going to sneak in to collect blackmailing information.

Italy, though? That was literally the worst thing that could have happened. He felt his face heat up.

... On the plus side, it would never be as bad as that other embarrassing day. The one that he still had nightmares about, occasionally, and would cause him to wake up shuddering. So he supposed he could live...

* * *

After reaching Italy's house, Germany had, unfortunately, been greeted by the wrong Italy brother. For a solid five minutes, Romano had screamed profanities at him, refusing to let him into the house, even as his brother begged, pleaded and tugged on his arm.

Eventually, however, he'd run out of steam and gotten tired. Giving up, Romano had just said 'Screw it' and walked off, calling him a 'potato-loving bastard' and threatening to skin his muscles if he did anything to the house that even vaguely annoyed him. He was probably off to complain to Spain about how much he hated Germans.

Germany heaved a sigh of aggravation.

"Aheh, sorry about him," Italy said sheepishly. He moved to the side. "Please, do come in."

"Danke," Germany replied, following his friend into the house.

* * *

Germany glanced around awkwardly. Italy had told him to wait here, while he went to fetch something. Probably something to do with the secret he was apparently sharing, though he'd been at it a while already.

"Okay, Germany!" a voice suddenly called out. "Come down the hallway! To the big-a room on the right!"

"Alright!" Germany called back.

Making his way down the corridor, he glanced in each room to his right, until he found the large one that contained Italy.

He paused in the doorway at what he saw. Italy was holding up a foil. A sword similar to a rapier, but much less dangerous.

The smaller nation grabbed the tip of the blade with his fingers and bent it backwards. He smiled. "You like it?"

"... Um..." Germany was rather lost for words. "... Vhat are you doing viz zat?"

Italy huffed, suddenly looking proud of himself. He let go of the blade and it sprung back into place.

"Well, see... it's related to the secret! I didn't-a want anybody to know about it - not even Romano! - but... I trust you! Especially after your girly kitchen performance!"

Germany blushed slightly. "Zat vas not girly."

"Si, it was! Anyway!" Italy swung the foil. "As it turns out, Germany... I..." He pointed it straight at him. "Am really good at fencing."

Germany lowered his eyelids. "Fencing."

"Si."

"Really."

"Si!"

Germany rolled his eyes. "Alright, enough fooling around. Now, vhat did you really call me here for?"

Italy flashed him one of his rare smirks. "Sit-a back and watch."

* * *

... Holy scheisse.

Germany couldn't stop staring. He'd honestly thought Italy had been joking! But the way he handled that foil said otherwise...

His form was perfect. His grip, his footwork, the forward thrusts of his blade, the angles of his body. It was all perfect. He handled it as though he'd done so his entire life.

... He'd had no idea Italy could even wield a weapon. So, to see him wield one so professionally...

It was strange, otherworldly and... honestly quite cool.

"So!" Italy suddenly said. Germany snapped to attention. "What do you think?"

Germany had to take a minute to gather his thoughts, as he was still too busy staring. After a few moments, he collected himself and frowned.

"Vhy didn't you use zese skills in ze var?!" he growled.

Italy jumped slightly. "Oh, well, you know..." He glanced away, fidgeting with the foil.

"... Nein, I don't."

"W-Well, I couldn't exactly use this anyway, because it's for sport and not-a for fighting..." He bent the blade again for emphasis. "See?"

"You could have used an actual rapier. I'm sure ze skills vould have carried over."

"W-Well..." Italy paused a long moment. "J-Just-a because I know _how_ to fence, doesn't mean I _want_ to fence... you know?"

Germany gave a light huff of exasperation."... Zis vould have been useful, you know."

"S-Si, I know..."

There was an awkward pause.

Germany stepped closer. "So, vhy didn't you vant to use it?" he asked.

Italy looked up to meet his gaze. "Well..." He paused a moment, then sighed, sheathing the foil. "I've seen-a what war can do to a country... My Grandpa Rome loved battling, but..." He smiled slightly. "You know..."

Wow. Sometimes, Germany forgot how much older Italy was than him. His age was certainly showing right now, though.

"So," Italy continued, "I realised that fighting wasn't the answer to things... Hence why I said 'no' when..." He trailed off, looking sad. Germany considered asking, but decided not to press the issue. After a moment, Italy smiled. "Anyway! I didn't-a want to fight because I'm kind of a pacifist! Though I keep-a my skills sharp in honour of Grandpa Rome!" He paused, looking sheepish. "I hope you're not too mad..."

Germany paused a long moment, processing this information.

Eventually, he sighed and shook his head. "Nein... I mean, it vould have been nice to have an extra swordfighter on ze team, but... fighting really isn't your zing." He glanced away. "You'd probably be far too chicken to actually hit people viz a real rapier, anyvay..."

"Hey... I mean, you're not-a wrong, but hey..."

A tiny smirk worked its way onto Germany's mouth. Pushing it back down, he sighed. "Zen again, you did used to enjoy sniping France..."

"Si, but that-a was from a distance! He couldn't strike back with me out of range! Plus, it's France."

Germany shook his head in exasperation. He turned to look at his friend. "Anyvay, I'll admit you're good viz a foil. Surprisingly."

Italy beamed at him. "Hee~! Grazie!"

Germany felt a slight jolt in his chest at the drastic mood shift. He quickly cleared his throat. "Uh, no problem... A-Anyvay, I really should be getting back and making Prussia his dinner." He paused. "Vould you like to join us?"

"Oh, si, I'd love to! Can I even have some of the cake you made?"

"J-Ja, sure." He really didn't need reminding about the cake...

"Grande! Oh, let-a me put-a my sword away, and we can head to your place!"

"Alright."

As he frolicked past him, Italy shot him a wide grin. "Maybe you can hum me that song on the way back? It-a was really cute, whatever it was!"

Germany's face flushed red. "N-Nein!"

Italy giggled in response and skipped away.

Urgh. That dummkopf...


	11. One for All

Author's note: Hey, folks! Sup?

Well, here's the next chapter! Be sure to drop me a line and tell me what you think! What you liked, what you didn't like, what you think could be improved! All sandwiched together to help me with my writing! I do my best to respond to all reviews.

Thanks in advance and I hope you like the chapter!

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven** **: One for All**

 **1998**

"Thank you for the having of me, comrades~!" Russia said with a pleasant smile.

"Oui, oui," France replied with a wink, "you are most welcome. It certainly took you long enough."

"Russia! Dude!" America said with a slightly strained smile. "Sup, bruh? Sorry about the Soviet Union collapsing and junk! But them's the breaks, huh?"

Russia returned the strained smile. "Da, I suppose you are right," he replied, "but do not call me bruh."

"Kay, bruh!"

Britain heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. "Oh, bloody hell..." he muttered, looking away in annoyance.

Japan looked slightly perturbed by the new development, but he said nothing.

Italy tried to subtly scoot his chair closer to Germany's, hoping that Russia wouldn't sit near him. It was nice and all that the G7 had a new member now - making it the G8 - but he still didn't entirely trust Russia and wanted to be nowhere near him during meetings. That man was scary!

Russia glanced around briefly, looking for a chair. Italy silently pleaded that he'd sit anywhere else.

Eventually, the man's eyes settled on an empty chair nowhere near Italy.

Russia smiled, pointing to the chair. "I sit here. Is okay?"

"Yes, sure, whatever," Britain replied. "No one's using it."

Italy breathed a sigh of relief.

"Spasibo." Russia walked over and sat down. The chair made a slight squeaking noise. He blinked. "This noisy chair." He shuffled around a bit. The chair squeaked some more. He smiled. "It very comfy, though~"

"Glad you like it, mon ami," France replied.

"Though I don't see why it would be comfier than the other chairs..." Britain grumbled.

Russia turned to France. "So, we ask China to join, too?" he asked.

France faltered. "Uh, well..." he replied. He shrugged. "We shall see if 'e wants to, mon ami."

"Yeah," America said, wearing his strained smile, "then we can make it a commie party!"

Russia returned the strained smile. "Da," he replied. "I put the 'com' in 'comrade'... comrade."

"I'll freaking bet you do!"

They continued to passive-aggressively smile at one another across the table. It was starting to creep Italy out.

Beside him, Germany heaved a sigh. Glancing up at his best friend, Italy could already see the dark circles under his eyes returning. Oh dear...

* * *

 **1999**

"Ooh, this is so exciting, isn't it, Germany?" Italy asked, bouncing in his seat.

Germany looked at the array of countries surrounding the large table. "Ja..." he replied.

Seated around them were Austria, France, Belgium, Netherlands, Finland, Ireland, Luxembourg, Spain and Portugal, all of which were deep in conversation.

These eleven countries had decided to form the Eurozone. The plan being that, eventually, they would all wield the same currency and become more closely intertwined as nations.

Hopefully, it would work. Though, knowing the kind of countries he was dealing with, he wasn't very hopeful...

* * *

 **2001**

"Oh! Oh!" Italy said, bouncing alongside Germany. "I heard the news! Gay marriage is legal or something in your country now, right?"

Germany sighed. "Nein, not quite," he replied. "Zey're registered life partnerships. Ve're a vay off making it marriage yet."

"Oh, okay! Well, it's a step in the right direction! After all, love is love, right?"

Something jumped inside Germany's chest at that comment. Shaking it off, he reached for his house keys. "Ja, sure, vhatever."

Unlocking the door, he walked in, wiping his shoes on the rug. Immediately, he was assaulted by three very happy dogs.

He tried to settle them as they climbed over one another to jump on him. "Ja, ja, calm down..."

Suddenly, they ran past him and tackled Italy, instead. His friend yelped as his light body fell to the ground under the weight.

Italy, obscured by the dogs, sounded like he couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry as he was licked to death.

Germany heaved a sigh, then put on his stern voice. "Achtung!" All three dogs halted, looking up at him with guilty expressions. He put his hands on his hips. "Nein. Zat's naughty."

Italy sat up, looking relieved. "Oh, grazie, Germany."

"No problem."

Italy immediately started stroking Berlitz on the head, who gave him a dopey smile in response. Noticing this, Aster tried to nudge the hovawart out of the way and get the attention for himself. Blackie, too small to compete with them, rubbed his side against Italy's leg, instead.

Giggling, Italy tried his best to stroke all three at once. He still hadn't gotten up off the floor.

Germany sighed in slight exasperation, though he did have to admit that the scene was rather cute. His dogs really adored Italy, bombarding him with affection whenever he came through the door.

It brought to mind his country's recent ruling again...

Shaking his head a second time, he tried not to think about it.

* * *

 **2002**

"Check it out, Germany!" Italy said, holding up a five euro note. "I have the same currency as you now!"

"Ja," Germany replied, glancing at his own five euro note in his hand, "you do."

"It finally got into circulation, completely destroying the lira!" Italy glanced at the note with a slightly sad smile. "I'm going to miss the lira."

Germany sighed. "Ja... I know how you feel."

He, himself, missed the Deutsch Mark, but nothing could be done about that.

"... Oh well! It just-a means we're even closer as nations!" Italy held out the note again, looking oddly pleased with himself. "It's like our countries are one now!"

Slight warmth crept up Germany's face. Did he have to phrase it like that?

"Here's to the future!"

"Ja. Ze future."

Italy looked like he was waiting for something.

Germany raised an eyebrow. "Vhat?"

Italy looked down at Germany's note, then back up at his own. At Germany's confused expression, he waved it slightly, then tapped a finger to it.

Still confused, Germany held up the five euro note. Italy tapped his own against it.

Huh. Somehow, that had felt like a pact all its own.

Italy beamed. "Hee~!" He pulled the note away. "Now let's hope the euro doesn't-a crash or anything, or a lot of countries will feel the pain!"

"Ja. Zat vould be... quite bad."

* * *

A few years down the line, Germany was sitting on a log at the beach, watching America, Britain, France, Russia and China doing a bon dance, while Japan pounded on a taiko drum.

... What a day they'd had.

Once upon a time, he'd thought a gigantic Ancient Rome, singing to him from the ocean, had been the strangest thing he'd ever seen. After the planet had nearly been invaded and assimilated by aliens, however, that no longer seemed so strange.

He turned to look at Italy, who was sitting beside him, Pookie nestled contentedly in his lap. The two of them were engrossed in watching the bon dance.

Italy.

If not for him, they'd all be Pictonians right now. Faceless. Featureless. Lacking any individuality. He'd saved them all. The 'hopeless' country had saved the entire planet...

Italy turned to smile at him. "That-a was quite an adventure, huh?" he asked.

Germany sighed. "Ja..." he replied.

"I'm glad we didn't all get turned into faceless blobs~!"

"Me too."

"Man, if Grandpa Rome hadn't given me that marker pen, we'd all be toast right now!"

"Ja..."

He remembered that moment. A little too clearly. Even as a faceless alien with a glowing antenna, he'd found 'glam metal Rome' rather disturbing and weird.

Italy paused a moment. Then he suddenly yelped. "Oh no! What happens when it runs out?!"

Germany felt a jolt of fear. Oh god. If it did run out, was there a chance of the Pictonians coming back? He really hoped not. Marker pens didn't last forever, after all, and that was the only thing keeping them placated.

"I... I'm sure it's fine... Zey'll just... find anozer one elsevhere..."

"Oh, I hope you're right!"

"J-Ja. I'm sure I am."

Italy made a whining noise, shuffling slightly closer along the log. Sudden warmth washed over Germany's side as their arms made contact, but he tried to ignore it.

"Either way, I'm glad you're all safe."

"Ja. Me too."

"I thought we were all goners!" Italy paused a moment. "And seeing you turn into a faceless blob in front of me was really terrifying!"

Germany gave a light sigh. "Vell, I did tell you to smile."

"I know, but... I couldn't!" His curl drooped. "I couldn't smile while you were turning faceless in front of me..."

Germany observed his best friend for a long moment. "... How did you know ze marker pen vould vork?"

Italy looked intrigued. "Huh?"

"How did you know zat vould save us?"

Italy smiled. "Well, I didn't, really! But... it came from Grandpa Rome! When I found it at my feet, I just... felt that everything would-a be alright, you know?"

"Hm. Is zat so?"

"Si~!"

Well, in fairness, there was no guarantee that smiling would have worked, anyway. The first time, it had only caught the Pictonians off-guard. It wouldn't have magically turned all the countries back to normal.

Still, though, Germany had felt it'd been worth a try. After all, he'd been completely out of options. His body had slowly been turning white and featureless, so he'd panicked. He'd yelled at Italy to smile in one last desperate attempt to save himself. To save everyone.

... At the same time, a small part of him had known it was probably fruitless. That it would do nothing to help.

... A small part of him had known that Italy's smile would be the last thing he'd see. The last thing he'd be able to appreciate. As himself and not as a noppera.

But Italy had refused to smile.

He couldn't deny that hurt a little, although he supposed it didn't really matter now.

A look of realisation suddenly appeared on Italy's face. His smile widened. "Hey, hey! Does this mean I finally held up my end of the Pact of Steel?"

Germany blinked. "... Ja, I... guess so..." He raised an eyebrow. "Zough you do know zat contract expired decades ago, right?"

"Si... but, in my heart, it still exists!"

... Meaning he'd still be expected to save Italy from danger, even now?

He rolled his eyes. Well, he'd still do it, of course, but all the same...

Italy giggled. "I can't-a believe it, though, really. Can _you_? After all the times you saved-a _me_ , I finally got to save _you_!" His smile brightened.

"Heh." A tiny smile crept onto Germany's face. "Ja. You did."

He glanced back over at the other nations, who were still bon dancing. Catching sight of China yawning, he suddenly felt a wave of tiredness wash over him. Wow. How long had it been since he'd last slept?

Oh yeah. Two nights ago. All the adrenaline from the invasion must have kept them awake all last night.

After another yawn, this time from Britain, he couldn't help yawning, himself.

"Tired?" Italy asked in amusement.

Germany grumbled in response.

Italy giggled. "Me too. I'm going to sleep well today!"

He gave his best friend a half-glare. "You've been taking naps all day."

"Si, but that's all they are! Siestas!"

He rolled his eyes.

"Alright, dudes!" America suddenly called out. "It's been fun and all, but the hero thinks we should all go home and get a nice, long rest!"

Above them, Japan ceased pounding on the taiko drum.

"About bloody time..." Britain grumbled.

"Aiya..." China said, droopy-eyed, "I so tired all of a sudden..."

"Da," Russia agreed. "It has been much fun, though."

"Per'aps we should all get togezer for a drink tomorrow," France suggested with a wink. "As a celebration."

"Yeah!" America agreed. "We did just save the freaking world, so we deserve it!"

"It was Italy who saved it, you git," Britain grumbled.

America ignored him. "So get some rest, then we'll all go to France's house, where all the booze is probably stored!"

France blinked. " _My_ 'ouse?" he asked.

"Yep!"

"Do you even drink alcohol?" Britain asked.

"Course I do! Though only sometimes! Anyway, dudes, be there or be square!"

"Aiya..." China groaned. "... Well, I suppose I can tolerate you baichi for a little longer..."

Russia smiled pleasantly. "It sound fun, comrade," he said.

"You bet your ass it does!" America replied.

Germany heaved a sigh. Oh boy...

* * *

After some much needed rest - next to Italy, who'd invaded his bed again - Germany went downstairs for breakfast. Upon seeing a letter by his door, he walked over and picked it up, curiously opening it.

He unfolded the letter, which was decorated with cursive handwriting, pictures of roses and smelled oddly like aftershave. Germany wrinkled his nose. He didn't even need to read it to know who'd written it.

 _Bonjour, my fellow country!_

 _You are cordially invited to the fabulous abode of France, the country of love~!_

 _Make sure to be in attendance by seven o' clock or, if you must be fashionably late, seven thirty._

 _Money is a requirement, as we shall be attending a bar! So be sure to bring plenty of euros, s'il vous plait! If you still have another currency, you would do well to exchange it beforehand, mon ami~!_

 _That is all. Merci beaucoup and see you tonight~_

 _Yours truly_

 _Big brother France x_

Sighing and shaking his head, Germany placed the letter back in the envelope.

* * *

"'Ere we are, mes amis~!" France said, grandly holding out his arms.

America gave a low whistle of approval. "Dude!" he said. "Suhwan _kay_!"

Germany hummed in agreement. The bar certainly _was_ 'swanky'. Mahogany tables and leather couches, faintly lit by the many mood lamps scattered throughout the room. Complex patterns engraved on the ceiling and artistic paintings adorning the walls.

He just hoped he'd brought enough euros to cover this...

France turned to face everyone. "Alright, feel free to order anyzing you want." He gave a sly grin that was mostly directed at America. "Because I'm not paying for it." He smiled again. "You name it and we probably 'ave it."

"Everything?" China asked curiously.

"Oui. We 'ave learned zat we must be accommodating to our guests. Even if zeir taste in drinks is 'orrid, we aim to please~"

"Sweet!" America replied. He ran over to the counter. "Alright! Gimme a hard cider!"

The bartender blinked at him. "An... _'ard_ cider?" he asked.

"Yeah! Not a soft one. A _hard_ one!"

"... I didn't know zere was a difference, but okay."

* * *

A short while later, everyone had ordered their drinks and were sitting around two separate tables. On one table, Germany had beer, Italy had wine, Japan had sake and America had his 'hard cider'. On the other table, Britain had ale, France had wine, Russia had vodka and China had baijiu. It really was amazing how many drinks this bar stocked.

"I was not aware you riked arcohoru, America," Japan said, sipping his sake.

"Well, I _kinda_ do!" America replied. He took a gulp of his cider and flinched slightly. "I prefer soda, honestly, but ya can't party with soda!"

Italy chuckled. "It's funny hearing _you_ say that!" he said.

"S'true, though! Soda's great, but we deserve something harder! Stronger! Faster!"

"... Faster?"

"Yeah! Hence the cider." He held up the pint glass. "The _hard_ cider!"

Germany could only shake his head in exasperation.

* * *

Many hours and empty pint glasses later, Germany's head felt light. He couldn't help but snigger to himself at the other countries' antics. It seemed they'd all had a bit too much to drink.

America was dancing on the table, singing his national anthem. Britain was ranting and raving at him, while mispronouncing every other word. Japan was watching with a half-lidded smile. France was groping everyone in the room, to varying reactions. China was leaning on his arms, fast asleep on the table. Italy had, at some point, dragged his chair much closer and was currently rubbing his face into Germany's arm. Everyone here was a nutcase.

Germany looked in Russia's direction. The man was smiling pleasantly, as always.

"Vhy are you not drunk...?" Germany asked, slurring slightly.

Russia turned to him. "I drink vodka more than water, so I used to it," he replied.

Germany gave him an amused smile. "Huh. Is zat so...?"

"Da~! So it funny that you drunk on beer. In my country, if it lower than ten percent, it count as soft drink!"

"Vell, excuse me..."

Suddenly, Italy left his seat and climbed on Germany's lap. The action surprised him.

Italy just smiled lazily at him, swinging his legs beneath him.

Germany blinked. "Hallo..."

"Ciao~...!"

"Any reason you're doing zat...?"

"Because I _want_ to...!"

Something began to swell in Germany's chest. As he tried to squash it back down, it grew more painful. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. This always happened, especially when he was drunk.

He reached up a hand and gave Italy a light rub on the head. "You're such a pain sometimes, you know zat...?"

Italy giggled impishly. "Si, I do...~"

Germany playfully rolled his eyes. The man didn't know just how much of a pain he was, quite frankly. It was just fortunate that so many other countries were around right now.

After all, he really didn't want to be doing something stupid, only to regret it in the morning...


	12. In Vino Veritas

Author's note: Hey there!

Been a while, hasn't it? That's mainly coz motivation for this fic has been low, as of late. That and, now that the history stuff is over and done with, I realised I didn't have much present day-ish stuff in backup. XD Whoops.

Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve** **: In Vino Veritas**

Several more hours later, it was closing time. Germany was now _very_ light-headed. America, who was grinning madly, had Italy under his arm as the Italian finished telling him a story.

"And _that_..." Italy said with a lopsided grin on his face, "is why you don't try to retreat while drunk..."

America burst out laughing, slapping Italy on the back several times. The smaller man buckled under the weight.

"Dude...!" America replied. "You're, like, really funny, man...!"

When Italy didn't move from the floor, Germany exaggeratedly rolled his eyes with a smile and pulled him up.

The Italian beamed at him and clung to his arm. His heart did several flips at the gesture.

The rest of the countries started to pile out of the bar. China, who looked barely able to stand, was being held up by a wheezing Japan. The smaller man had a frown on his face.

"Orud man, you need to take more responsibirity when you drink..." Japan rambled, "because, se next time, I might not be sere and you wirru be reft on se froor and where wirru you be sen...? I swear, you were never sis razy back when-"

Suddenly, Britain emerged, tears streaming down his face.

"I was a great empire once...!" he wailed. "I _was_...! But I didn't... bloody..." He sobbed. "I didn't bloody help with the bloody aliens at all...!" When France emerged, Britain collapsed against him, weakly pounding his fists into his shirt. "All I bloody did was make it bloody worse...!" He sobbed. "Why does no one like my bloody scones...?!"

France smirked at him through half-lidded eyes. "Ohonhon... I can make you feel better, mon ami..." He reached around and groped Britain's rear end.

Britain jolted, then punched France across the face. "You bloody wanker...!"

Covering a sore nose, France backed away. "Ohon... worz it..."

When Russia emerged, he was wearing his usual pleasant smile. He hummed in amusement. "It funny to see such lightweights~!" he said. After a moment, he pouted. "It look fun, but I no can join in..."

"Well, dudes...!" America said. "I dunno about you... but I'm about ready to hit the hay...!"

Germany huffed in amusement. "Ja, I zink zat's for ze best..." he replied.

America grinned at him. "And Germany, dude...! Good to see you can smile once in a while...!" He paused, then laughed. "That rhymed...~!"

Germany snorted, still amused. "Ja, it did..."

"Arigatou for se night out..." Japan said. He tried to bow, but struggled with the weight of China on him. "But I must be going now..."

"Oui, me too...~" France replied. He grabbed Britain's arm and threw it over himself. "Come along, Britain..."

Britain tried to yank his arm back. "I don't bloody need any bloody help from-" he said before almost falling over, "you..."

"As I was saying...~"

"... Grope me even once and you're bloody losing your... bloody face..."

"Oui, oui...~ I'm well acquainted wiz drunken British violence...~"

"I'll violence your... bloody face..."

"Well, dudes..." America said, "thank you and goodnight...!" He gave a grand bow, then marched off in the direction of his house.

As he rounded the corner, Germany could hear him singing his national anthem again.

"Oyasuminasai..." Japan said. He tried and failed to bow a second time. Giving up, he huffed in annoyance and began to hobble away.

As he rounded the other corner, he began ranting to China again.

"Bonne nuit...~" France said, dragging Britain away.

"Yes, good bloody night and whatever..." Britain added.

As they disappeared around the corner, Germany felt a tug on his arm. Looking down, he saw Italy beaming at him again.

"Can I stay over at your place...~?" Italy asked.

Germany smirked at him. "As if I have to invite you..."

Italy grinned. "Well, you know...~!"

Germany lifted a hand and lightly squeezed Italy's head. He made a cute little yelp in response.

"If I don't invite you, you'll just sneak in anyvay..."

Italy giggled madly, a mixture of amusement and light fear on his face. "Well, you know...!"

Sighing, Germany removed his hand. "Ja, you can stay over... you dummkopf..." He turned to see Russia still standing by the doorway. "Vell... gute nacht..."

"Si, buona notte...!"

Smiling, Russia waved at them both. "Spokoynoy nochi~!" he replied.

Turning around, they headed off.

* * *

As Germany walked back home through the streets of Germany, Italy never let go of his arm. He had to admit that the warmth from it was nice.

The Italian had also been telling him stories the entire trip, while waving his free arm animatedly. Germany didn't mind, though. It was just nice listening to his voice.

"But then she turned out to be a guy...!" Italy explained. He laughed, then pouted. "Typical that the _one_ girl who said-a 'yes' was a guy in drag..."

Germany huffed in amusement. "Poor you..."

Italy swayed back and forth exaggeratedly. "He was a very pretty girl, too...! Very convincing...! Argh, damn it..."

Germany shook his head. "Ja, heaven forbid you date a guy..."

Italy squinted his eyes more than they already were. "Whaaaat, it's not-a like I haven't before...!"

Something jolted in Germany's chest. Oh, yeah. He'd almost forgotten about that guy Italy had mentioned a long time ago.

"Oh, ja, I forgot..."

"Siiii, well, I guess I know his pain now, eh...~?"

"Huh...? Vhat do you mean...?"

"I guess, to him, I was a guy in drag, too...~!"

Germany looked at him strangely, a smile still present on his face. "Vhat...?"

Italy gave him an adorably awkward toothy grin. "Si...~! I used to wear a maid dress, back in Austria's house..."

Germany raised an eyebrow. "... You...? In a dress...?"

"Si...! Austria thought I was a girl, so he gave me a maid dress...!" He huffed and pouted again. "Silly Austria... I look-a nothing _like_ a girl..."

A chuckle exploded out of Germany's mouth. He quickly covered it with a hand.

Italy mock-frowned up at him. "I know that look...! You think I look-a like a girl, too, don't you...?"

"... Neiiiin..."

Italy rocked back and forth. "Meanie...!"

Germany gave a much lighter chuckle in response.

A comfortable silence fell between them as they kept walking.

This continued for a while, until a couple passed by them, holding hands and laughing. Germany glanced over at them, then did a double-take when he saw that they were both men.

"Oh...!" Italy said, sounding surprised. "Speak of the devil...! We were talking about that-a not long ago...!""

"Ja..."

Germany suddenly realised he was staring. He forced himself to tear his gaze away, and not just because staring was rude...

Italy smiled up at him. "Things suuure are different now, eh...?"

"Hmm...? You mean viz ze gay zing...?"

"Siiii...~! Only a few decades ago, it was illegal and _now_ look...!" He waved a hand around at the German scenery.

"Ja, ve've come a long vay, zat's for sure..."

"Hey, hey...! Remember back in World War Two, when your boss made gays wear those silly pink things on their shirts...?"

Germany puffed out a breath of air. "Jaaaa... ve used to call zem ze pink triangles of shame..."

Italy burst into laughter. "Wow, it must have been so mortifying to wear one of those...!"

Germany shrugged. "Ja, probably..."

"I can only imagine...!" A moment passed, before Italy gasped. "Ohhhh, dio, if he'd heard about Holy Rome..."

Germany raised an eyebrow. "Huh...? Who's Holy Rome...?"

Italy laughed awkwardly. "Oh, whoopsie...! I let the kitty out of the bag with that one, didn't I...? Well, he's that old kind of, sort of, but not-a really boyfriend I had once...!"

"Oh, right, him..."

"Si, the one who thought I was a girl...! Anyway... he was the guy who had all of _this_..." He made a grandiose motion over the scenery. "Before _you_ did...! He was a huuuuge empire, who wasn't-a really an empire, but he liked calling himself that, because it made him sound big and cool, like Grandpa Rome... but anyway...! He wanted-a _me_ to be part of his empire, but I didn't want to, so we just sort of hung out as friends, until he kissed me one day and...!"

Germany jolted slightly. "Vait, vait... he _kissed_ you...?"

Italy blushed, though the grin didn't leave his face. "Whoopsie...! That's _two_ kitties now...!" He giggled madly. "Si, he did, he did... and your boss would have had a stroke if he'd found out...!"

Germany blinked at him. "... Ja, probably..."

"Would he have made-a _me_ wear a pink triangle, too...?"

"Most likely..."

Italy looked a bit worried at that response. "Ohhhh and would he have kicked-a me off the Axis Powers, do you think...?"

"Pfft... who knows...?"

"Well, it's a good job I didn't tell him, then, eh...?"

"Ja..." Germany paused a moment in thought. "Hey... vhy didn't you ever talk about him, anyvay...?"

"Ohhhh, because it was embarrassing...! It never used to be legal in your country...! Plus, I kinda just... you knowwww... didn't-a want to think about him anymore after he died...!"

"... Ah..."

Italy smiled. "Don't-a worry, though...~! I think it's been long enough now...! He kinda stopped talking to me after he found out I was a trap, anyway...! Not that I knew I was a trap at the time, but still...!"

"Ah, zat's a pity... I'm sorry about all zat..."

"It's okay...~! His empire thing crumbled after all the in-fighting, I think...! Something like-a that, anyway...! And then _you_ were born about seventy years later...!"

"Is zat so...?"

"Si...~!"

"Hmph... Prussia had said somezing about a previous owner, but he hadn't talked about him much... and I didn't pursue ze issue..."

Italy mock-gasped. "You, not doing research on something...?! Oh, dio, is the world ending again...?!"

Germany rolled his eyes playfully. "Hardy har har... Maybe I _vill_ do more research on it... Vhat do you say to _zat_...?"

Italy grinned. "I'd say that's more like you...!"

Germany huffed lightly in response. After a moment's contemplation, a thought came to him. "Hey... I didn't... _replace_ him, did I...?"

Italy looked surprised. "Huh...? Oh, no, no, no...! I never once thought that...! It's not-a _your_ fault that he died and you took his land...!" He paused. "Though I'll admit, I was a liiiittle bit salty at first... Just a bit, though...~!"

"... Oh..."

"And it _really_ didn't help that people said you looked-a like him...! Blonde and blue-eyed and everything...! And then you got the reputation of being _big_ and _mean_ and _scary_...! But then we talked and I found out you were great...~!"

Italy nuzzled into his arm, causing Germany's heart to leap in his chest. He took deep breaths to calm himself and ignore it.

"... Vell, danke..."

Italy gave a happy hum. "No problem...~!"

... It always got harder to ignore when he was drunk, though. Always.

* * *

"Yaaaay, we made it...!" Italy said happily as they stood outside the front door. "We're home...!"

Germany couldn't decide if the flip his heart did at the comment was pleasant or unpleasant.

"It's not _your_ home, you dummkopf..." he replied playfully, looking down at him.

Italy grinned up at him, still clutching onto his arm. "Might as well be, the amount of time I spend here...~"

Germany's heart did a second flip at the statement. "Vell, I guess you've got a point..."

"Si, I do, don't I...?" Italy giggled.

... Now that he looked at the Italian, he couldn't help but notice that the man's brown hair was mussed up slightly, his cheeks tinted a rosy pink from all the wine. He was swaying from side to side happily, still grinning at him with that adorable smile.

Germany's heart thudded painfully in his chest at the sight.

... No. He couldn't afford to lose any sense of self control. None at all. It would only end horribly, if he did.

... Then again, there _was_ that story he'd been told about Holy Rome earlier...

As he recalled it, a thousand thoughts and feelings raced through both his head and heart, all at once. He felt like he was going to burst from the intensity.

Wow, this feeling was familiar. A bit _too_ much so.

Italy tilted his head at him cutely. "Hmm...? What, is there something on my face, or something...~?"

Germany blinked. Then blinked a second time. He noticed that his head was much closer to Italy's than it had been before.

His eyes widened. Oh god, what was he doing?!

He quickly pulled his face away. "Nein, nein...!" He gave an awkward laugh. "Just, uh, zought I'd check...! You know...! But you're fine, so no vorries...!"

"Oh, really...? Well, graziiiiie...~!"

"Ja, ja, no problem...!"

Laughing awkwardly again, he pulled away his arm to search his pocket for the front door key. His face suddenly felt much hotter than before.

Good lord, he really needed to watch himself...


	13. Down Memory Lane

Author's note: Hiya!

Wow, this fic has so many lurkers! Drop a line, why dont'cha? :P I don't bite! Promise!

Maybe start with something you liked about the chapter? That's always a good opener! I'll even be sure to give you a friendly response!

But I have no idea what people think if they don't talk to me. XP

Anyway, hope you like the chapter, guys!

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen** **: Down Memory Lane**

About a week after saving the world and getting horribly drunk - but thankfully avoiding any embarrassing scenarios - Germany was carefully reading through a history book.

Huh. So that was who Holy Rome had been. Apparently, the guy had been a heated enemy of France for a long time, and had been obsessed with trying to make Italy part of his empire.

He'd also gone by many names. The Roman Empire, the Holy Roman Empire, the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation...

Germany had been very confused by that first name. More research, however, had shown that it wasn't to be confused with the _original_ Roman Empire. The one that had come to visit him in the night once, to bother him about his grandson...

Through more research, he learned of Holy Rome's connections. To Germania, to Prussia, to Austria... Why had he never thought to research this before? It was his country's history!

... Though he supposed, back in the day, he'd been too busy with wars and politics to give it a second thought. The other countries had said before that he'd grown up too fast and maybe they were right...

Hm. So this guy had been Italy's boyfriend, had he? Or, at least, he'd been _planning_ to be Italy's boyfriend. As far as he could tell, Holy Rome had been away, fighting in a very long war.

Sometime during that war, his empire had crumbled.

He turned another page. As he did so, a memory from the previous week surfaced in his brain.

Holy Rome had found out that Italy was a guy. Not the _girl_ he'd fallen for. Not the _girl_ he'd kissed. Not the _girl_ he'd wanted to be part of his empire.

Then Holy Rome had stopped talking to him entirely. That was what Italy had said. Sometime afterwards, his empire had crumbled.

With a melancholic sigh, Germany placed his bookmark on the page and closed the history book. He put it to one side.

"Hey, broha!" a voice suddenly said.

Recognising it immediately, he sighed. "Ja, hallo," he replied.

Prussia planted his foot on the couch and leaned forward. "Vhat are you reading?"

Germany huffed, lightly shoving Prussia's leg back off the couch. "A history book."

"History?! Pah! If you vant history, you should ask ze expert! _Me_!"

"Ja, if I vant ze biased version, maybe."

"You mean ze _awesome_ version! Any and all failures on mein part vere completely someone else's fault! Zose history books lie!"

"Right..."

Prussia planted his foot on the couch again. "So vhat did you vant to know?"

Germany shoved it off again. "About Holy Rome."

Prussia paused a long moment. "... Holy Rome?"

"Ja. He vas ze guy who owned mein land first, ja? I vanted to know more about him."

"Vell... vhat brought _zis_ on, all of a sudden?"

"Italy talked about him."

Prussia looked away, frowning sadly. "Right. Of course."

"... Did you know much about him?"

Prussia heaved a sigh. "Ja, ja, I did..." He gave Germany a tired frown. "He vas very much like _you_ , actually."

Germany blinked. "Me?"

"Ja. Grouchy. Steely. A stick up his arsche-"

"Hey."

Prussia glanced away and smiled slightly. "But a heart of gold."

Fascinating...

"... You've never talked about him before."

Prussia turned to him with a cheeky grin. "Vell, you never asked!"

Germany sighed. "Touché..." He paused a moment. "So he died and zen... I vas born?"

Prussia's grin softened. "Sometime later, ja. All ze German nations decided to be more unified and, vell... you vere born! Of course, it vas mein awesome idea!"

"Hmm." Germany glanced down at the history book. "... He and Italy vere razer close, I hear."

"Ja..." Prussia let out a puff of air. "Holy Rome had ze biggest freaking crush on Italy, you vouldn't believe! Even vorse, he kept referring to him like he vas a girl!" He laughed.

"Mmm."

"I didn't have ze heart to tell ze poor dummkopf zat he vas actually gay!" He laughed harder. After a while, the laughter fizzled away into nothing. "But zen he found out himself. Vouldn't stop freaking out."

"Ah..."

"I tried to convince him to contact Italy again, but he refused. So... ja. It vasn't very awesome."

"Doesn't sound like it."

"But hey!" A hand slapped onto Germany's shoulder. He looked up to see his brother grinning again. "At least Italy has you, right?"

Slight warmth crept onto Germany's face. He frowned. "Vhat? I'm not his boyfriend."

"Nein, but you're ze closest zing he's got to Holy Rome! Like I said, you're pretty similar."

"... Hmph."

Prussia chuckled. "Plus it's fun to joke about." He slapped his hand against Germany's shoulder several times. "Gotta find _some_ vay to loosen zat stick, eh?"

Germany rolled his eyes, brushing Prussia's hand off his shoulder. He chose not to answer that question.

* * *

The following week, Germany and Italy decided to go the cinema and watch a movie together.

Germany locked his front door, then began fiddling with his car keys as he walked. Suddenly, a hand landed on top of his. He glanced up in surprise.

Italy was looking a bit green. "Um..." he said, "how about _I_ drive us there, instead?"

Germany briefly thought back to that one time he'd allowed Italy to drive. He went into mild PTSD from the memory.

"Nein!" he replied angrily, snatching his hand away. "You're not driving at five hundred miles an hour again!"

"Hey, there's no such thing as five hundred miles an hour!"

"Vell, if zere vas, you'd be driving it! _I'll_ drive us, instead!"

Italy suddenly looked panicked. "No! I don't want to fall off any more cliffs or drive through any more walls!"

"But if it's ze fastest vay zere, zen-!"

"It's the fastest way to an early grave!"

"Says ze speed demon who doesn't know vhat a brake is!"

"I do too! But you don't know what careful driving is!"

"Oh, says you!"

"Si, says me!"

Germany huffed in annoyance, his face red from all the yelling. He took a deep breath. He slowly released it. "... Alright, fine. Ve'll valk. How about zat?"

Italy beamed. "Sounds good! As long as it isn't _too_ far!"

"Nein. Not really."

"Great, then let's go!"

Huffing again, Germany led the way.

* * *

"... Remember vhen you mentioned Holy Rome?" Germany asked as they walked.

"Oh, si!" Italy replied. "I'm surprised you remembered that!"

He gave the smaller nation an exasperated glance. "I vasn't _zat_ drunk..." He glanced away again. "Anyvay, I learned a lot about him. Who he vas, vhat he did... his connection to you and a few ozer people..."

"Si?"

Germany put a hand under his chin in thought. "Somezing's been bozering me, zough."

"Oh? Whazzat?"

Germany turned to look at Italy. "Did _anyone_ know you vere a boy?"

Italy tilted his head. "Oh, well... Hungary did! And I think Prussia did? Austria didn't, though... and neither did Holy Rome..."

"I see..."

"And, of course, Romano did, but I barely saw him at the time. He'd been palmed off on Spain, 'cause Austria hated how lazy he was."

Germany gave him a pointed look. "And you _veren't_?"

Italy pouted. "No, actually! I was a good maid! The _best_ maid! I swept until the floors sparkled, damn it!"

"Huh. Pity you got so lazy over ze years..."

Italy beamed. "It wasn't a pity for _me_!"

Germany rolled his eyes. "Anyvay... so not once, in ze whole time you vere at Austria's, vere you referred to by a male pronoun?"

Italy paused a long moment, staring at him. He was so busy staring that he tripped on a pothole. Yelping, he grabbed Germany's arm for balance.

The smaller nation laughed. "Huh. You know what? I guess _not_! It would have solved a lot of problems down the line if I _had_ been!"

Germany stared in disbelief. "No kidding..."

He'd never heard of such a ridiculous coincidence...

Italy frowned for a minute, looking thoughtful. "In fact... Hungary used to give me dresses to wear... I always wondered why she was doing that, but... maybe it was to impress Holy Rome?" His eyes snapped open. "But that-a would mean she _knew_ Holy Rome thought I was a girl!" He closed his eyes again. "Ohhhh, that sneaky woman..."

Germany gave him another exasperated glance. Mostly because, sad as it was, it did seem like something Hungary would do...

* * *

"Yahoo, we're here!" Italy said joyfully, running up to the movie boards. Germany walked over to stand beside him. "Wow, there's so many things playing today!" Italy turned to smile at him. "You know, I still can't-a wrap my head around it! How big movie theatres got over the years!" He waved his arms to indicate the throngs of people around them. "Remember when it-a was a one-room theatre with only one movie playing? And you'd have no choice but to watch that one movie, until it changed?"

"Ja," Germany replied, recalling it even now. "I do."

"So what do you want to watch?"

"Hmm..." Germany scanned the boards. "A horror movie?"

"What?! Nooo, too scary! How about a romance movie?"

"... Nein. An action movie?"

"No, too violent! Comedy movie!"

"Nein." Germany paused, still scanning the boards. "... Hmm..."

"Man, this is hard... We don't have similar tastes at all..."

"Unfortunately."

"... Hmmmmm... How about _that_ one?" Italy planted a finger on one of the movies.

Germany raised an eyebrow. "Isn't zat one for children?"

"Well, si! But I hear grown-ups can watch it, too!"

"Is zat so? Who's it by, again?"

"Bizney Kixar! It's said to be a classic!"

Germany squinted at it, thinking.

"Come on, pleaaaase? You might like it!"

Germany paused for a long moment. Eventually, he gave up and heaved a sigh. "... Alright, fine."

Italy leapt in the air in joy. "Yattaaaa!"

Germany gave him an exasperated look. "For ze last time, you're not Japanese..."

* * *

Italy skipped out of the theatre, an empty disposable coffee cup in hand. "Wow, that movie was so cute~!" he said. He pouted. "But sad..." He smiled. "But cute!"

"Ja, it vas decent enough," Germany replied. "Zough it hardly varranted bursting into tears..."

Italy whined. "It was a sad moment, okay?!" He pouted. "My favourite character nearly died..."

Germany sighed. "Ja, ja... but it's just a cartoon."

"An _animated_ cartoon. That's 3D. And digital."

"But still a cartoon."

Italy pouted again. "Hmph." There was a pause. "... Grazie for comforting me, though."

A tinge of warmth spread to Germany's cheeks as he recalled it. "No problem..."

It had been kind of embarrassing, actually. In the theatre, he'd suddenly heard sniffling and quiet sobbing next to him, so he'd laid a hand on Italy's shoulder to calm him down. When that hadn't worked, he'd given it a gentle rub, as well.

The sobs had soon quietened down after that.

"And hey," Italy said, "you still enjoyed the movie, right?"

"Ja, I did..." Germany replied.

Italy smiled. "So do you want to watch another one with me, sometime?"

Germany gave a small smile in return. "Ja. Zat might be nice."

Italy grinned at him. "Sweet! And be sure to comfort me again if it's a sad one, okay?"

Germany glanced away, face still warm. "Ja, ja... zough you should probably vork on _not_ crying at a cartoon."

"I'm a sensitive soul, okay?!" Italy huffed. "It's not _my_ fault you have a heart of stone..."

"I do not have a heart of stone."

"Si, you do!"

"Nein, I don't."

Italy grinned. "Si, you do~! In fact... I've never once seen you cry! I bet you can't~!"

Germany huffed. "Zat's 'cause I don't _vant_ to cry."

"Don't want to? Or can't?"

Germany heaved a sigh. His friend was going to be the death of him today, he swore to gott...


End file.
